Epidemic
by Youshi Semenjyu
Summary: UPDATED! After being healed by Vash, Knives leaves,vowing to rectify his past mistakes. But when demons and disease begin to mysteriously wipe out the human populace of Gunsmoke, Vash and the girls go to investigate and find more than they expected. (WxV)
1. Prologue

Epidemic 

**By DuoLordOfDeath**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Trigun characters, places, etc. This is for my own personal entertainment, as well as others, and I have no goals to make money from my work.**

**NOTE: Any and ALL quotes are taken from the Japanese subtitles! I have yet to see Trigun in English!**

****

**~*Prologue*~ **

                _"Vash…take care of Knives…"_

                "Yes, Rem…despite what he has done…I would be just like him if I let him suffer…and I would be turning my back on all that you taught me if I were to remain cold and complacent towards him. Like the red geranium, I remain determined that Knives can be turned around from the hating, vindictive person he is so that he may understand and respect the life that humanity has brought to this otherwise barren planet…I can only hope that I can pass on what you taught me to him so that he can see…"

                Silently, the man known as Vash the Stampede sighed and turned his gaze from the unconscious form laying on the bed a few feet away to look out over the cityscape of December. The lively sounds of hustle and bustle barely made it to his window from the streets below, and a gentle breeze, warm and slightly dusty, caressed his youthful face as his expressive green eyes watched the goings on below. Many weeks had passed since his last brutal encounter with his brother; a battle he would not have survived had it not been for the lucky change that he had been carrying the Punisher; the cross that Wolfwood…

                Vash furrowed his brow slightly; he didn't want to think on that…Wolfwood had led a troubled life; it was better now that he had made his peace with God and was at rest from the weary world…but never was such a death fair…Gritting his teeth, Vash turned from the window and forced himself to forget about those deaths that still held a heavy burden on his shoulders despite the respite of his past. So many deaths that could have prevented…even though he understood now what Rem had taught him about his future being a clean slate, that did not make the acceptance any less difficult.

                After the defeat of Knives, Vash had followed Meryl Strife and Millie Thompson of the Bernadelli Insurance Agency back to December, where he hoped to shelve his gun once and for all, and finally find himself a truly peaceful life. Even now, it was little known knowledge that the infamous Humanoid Typhoon lived among the citizens of this city, but the few who did know were allies. Here, he had hoped to nurse his brother back to health and tutor him in his pacifist ways. That no one had the right to take the life of another…Meryl and Mille had returned to Bernadelli and turned in a detailed (and extremely lengthy) report, which in turn gave them both promotions. Millie still was on a bit of probation for her tardiness, but it was easily agreed. If anyone had ever gone through mess and maelstrom to receive a promotion, those two could write the handbook.

                Taking his seat once again, Vash managed to smile a bit. It appeared that finally, things in his life were finding a calm niche. Perhaps the mayfly of love was not so far from his grasp now…but such a free-spirited thing was hard to capture. He glanced back over to Knives, who lay asleep and mending from his grievous wounds. He would learn…

                "Mr. Vash!" came a cheerful, familiar voice from the stairwell outside the small apartment. Vash looked up quickly, a smile on his face, and arose just as there came a knocking on the door. Striding across the floor, his long red coat rustling slightly as he went, he grasped the doorknob firmly and opened it to find a brightly smiling Mille Thompson standing at his stoop, with a slightly winded but equally cheerful Meryl Strife at her heels. 

                "Good afternoon, Mr. Vash!" Millie cried exuberantly, her infectious smile perpetually in place. "We were hoping you would be in! Miss Meryl and I are going to visit the orphanage today, and we were wondering if you would like to go! It would make Mr. Wolfwood happy to know that we are caring for his children!"

                At the mention of Wolfwood, Vash's smile faded a bit, and a flicker of dark sorrow floated in his usually bright eyes for a moment, but he rallied magnificently, and the waver of loss vanished quickly into a bright, irrevocable grin; his unassailable mask.

                "Sure; why not? I'm sure it's safe to leave Knives here alone for a few hours…" he remarked, and nodded warmly. "Let's go."

~*~

                A slow, slight grin began to spread across his formerly somber expression as the door creaked closed and the sound of voices faded, and slowly, his icy blue eyes opened, blinking against the brilliant sunlight that flooded the room from where his brother had left the shutters open. He waited until he heard the voices die away completely, and slowly sat up, his elbows supporting him. His closely cropped blond hair rustled slightly with the warm breeze, and as he sat completely up and glanced about his humble surroundings, he noticed that a careful hand had bandaged all his wounds. Frowning slightly at the generosity, he narrowed his eyes coldly and turned his eyes towards the door that had recently been closed. If it were not for the pain that swam all through his nerves, he would have leapt up from the bed and fled…but no. That would seem suspicious…If he were to elude his meddling brother and those silly human friends of his, he would have to be far more calculating…

                "Fools," Knives muttered to himself, a dark, slightly mad smile creeping onto his lips and spreading to his cold eyes. "If you think that I will succumb to my brother's childish whims…no." He chuckled darkly. "I refuse to be beaten so cheaply…I will not buy into the simpering teachings of such a weak woman as that Rem Saverem…but Vash need not know that…"

                Dark smile still in place, he pulled himself up and silently pulled his legs over the edge of the bed. He was no longer clothed in his suit, but rather, a loose fitting pair of pants and a shirt of the same type, with bandages underneath. Rolling his eyes at how pathetically human his brother was becoming, he slowly stood, his muscles aching a bit, and quietly strode to the shutters, gazing down at the busy streets below. He watched the humans that populated the city with a disgusted, imperialistic stare, aloof and sneering. Such a waste of space…he would make his perfect world, his Eden…a world where none of those wasting humans took up even a breath of air…


	2. Chapter One Let Me Help

**~*Chapter One – Let Me Help…*~**

                "Again, Miss Strife, the church thanks you greatly for the contributions you and your friends make. Without it, these children would be homeless and destitute."

                Meryl nodded warmly as the middle-aged man, a caretaker of the church, walked beside her, his balding head shining slightly in the light as they passed.. Echoing through the humble corridors rang the delighted laughter of young children playing, as well as what sounded like someone struggling against the youthful swarm. It was a heartwarming sound, and as they grew closer to the room where the children were playing, Millie stepped out from the door and turned to Meryl, smiling brightly. 

                "Isn't it wonderful that Mr. Vash is playing with the children, Sempai?"

                Several crashes, a small shout of pain, and several incorrigible giggles sounded from the room, as if to punctuate Millie's remark. Meryl sighed, shaking her head.

                "Yes, Millie…it's magnificent. As long as Vash doesn't break his neck while in the process…"

                The caretaker chuckled as they stepped up beside Millie and gazed into the room. Currently, Vash was being dog-piled by about seven rather raucous three year olds while two others, aged about seven, held his ankles and wrists so that he couldn't squirm away. The former gunslinger didn't seem too thrilled about this rather unpleasant run of events, but it was obvious that he was enjoying himself, despite all other evidence.

                "It certainly is…though I believe that the children appreciate the visits more than the financial aid. So young and innocent…it's not often that people come here to visit them to play…It was not so lonely for them before Nicholas Wolfwood, who, as you know, was the founder of the orphanage, left to raise some funds for-"

                "Shh!" Meryl said suddenly, waving a hand to silence the man gently. She gave the older man an apologetic expression as she did so, and glanced inside the room with a faintly sad expression. Thankfully, Vash appeared to have not heard the mentioning of his dead comrade's name, so she was able to breathe a thankful sigh of relief. "Please…forgive me for that, but…" She looked in to where Vash lay sprawled under the children, and shook her head. "Whenever he so much as hears mention of Mr. Wolfwood…he falls into a sort of dark doldrum…it deeply upsets him, so we try not to speak of him, despite how dear a friend he was. We don't know why he reacts that way…but there is something that everyone hides from the world. If he wanted us to know why it ailed him so, he would have told us…"

                After a moment, the elderly man nodded, looking rather perplexed but understanding. "Very well…But the children still hang on to the hope that he will return one day…and I haven't the heart to tell them otherwise. Nor do any of the other staff members here…they are so adamant…but they will grow to understand the truth in time."

Breathless, Vash laid where he had fallen after the children clambered off of him. They still crowded around him, watching him with childish delight as he panted from lack of oxygen, and once he dragged himself up to a sitting position, he shook his head and sighed before several children lightly clambered into his lap or onto his back. He laughed a bit breathlessly, thankful that they were at least being a bit gentler than before. They themselves were a bit out of breath as well, but that did little to stop them from at least climbing on the ex-gunman.

                "You're named Vash, right?" one of the children, a young boy of about seven, said, looking up at Vash with wide, innocent brown eyes. He was one of the few children who wasn't climbing up all on him, but instead was sitting before the crimson clad outlaw, looking immeasurably curious. He was holding a little toy gun in his hand, which was loaded with a single orange rubber dart, and there was a spark of awe in his expression as he asked his candid question.  

                Vash stopped for a moment and glanced down at the lad, smiling a bit at the quiet but curious question. He hesitated for a moment before noting the awed expression on the boy's face, and nodded. The boy slowly grinned and stood up, the gun in his hand waving around precariously. "I knew it! The really tall lady, Miss Millie, told me that you were Vash the Stampede, the wanted outlaw!"

                Vash froze and grew very pale. In the doorway, Millie was smiling in her usual way; bright and innocent…completely oblivious…but when he caught the child giving him an odd look, he quickly recovered and laughed nervously, trying to appear perfectly innocent. 

                "Now, what gave you that impression?" he asked, smiling worriedly. 

                The boy giggled. "Well, you're wearing the red coat…and you have the earring…" But he didn't seem to be afraid. On the contrary, he was rather enthralled, which surprised Vash. 

                "Er…oh…"

                "Besides," the boy continued, "Miss Millie told us that you and Mr. Wolfwood were good friends before he disappeared! He used to play with us just like you are now before he left to go raise money…I think it's awesome that he actually got to meet you! I know he's going to come back; he'd never leave us behind for too long…I know! He must have asked you, Miss Meryl, and Miss Millie to watch us for him while he was, away, didn't he! I'll tell him that you all did a great job when he gets back!"

                Vash's warm expression suddenly faltered as the boy spoke happily about the return of Nicholas D. Wolfwood, and his brilliant viridian eyes darkened a bit as the boy spoke. Slowly, he managed a sad smile, and looked at the little boy with a slightly heartrending, wistful expression. He opened his mouth to speak, but found that he could not bring himself to tell the boy that Nicholas Wolfwood was…dead. Instead, he let the longing expression linger for a moment before he chuckled a bit and shook his head.

                "Well...if I see him before you do…I'll tell him that you all are looking forward to his return…" he said with a sigh, and stood, gently letting the children down to the ground. Some of them tugged on the tails of his long red coat for a moment before realizing that he no longer wanted to play. Looking slightly disappointed at that, they followed him to the door, and looked up at their trio of guests.

                "Are you guys leaving?" a little girl asked, tugging at Millie's long coat and looking up at her with wide blue eyes. "You only got here…" she paused, counting on her fingers with a scrutinizing eye for a moment. "Seven hours ago," she concluded, holding up nine little round fingers. Millie looked positively enthralled by the little girl's conclusion, cooing about how cute she was, and Meryl, giving Vash a slightly worried look, simply smiled.   
                "Well, it takes quite a long time to travel 300 iles back to December…even in a car! And besides, Vash here has to tend to some personal matters in town."

                There was a chorus of disappointed sighs at this from the children, but the caretaker chuckled and nodded, ushering the children back into the room. 

                "Now now…I'm sure they'll come pay you another visit again soon…come on…go get some dinner," he replied, and after sending them off to get something to eat, he turned to his three guests with a warm smile. "Thank you. You really don't know what this means to the children. Please…come again soon," he said as he led the three of them to the exit. 

                "Oh, you needn't worry. We will come again. We probably look forward to this as much as the children," Meryl said with a smile. Millie was still cooing to herself over how adorable the little girl was as she followed the dark-haired young woman outside. Vash was the last to step out into the waning sunlight, and had remained oddly silent ever since he had left the children's company. He did, however, bid the caretaker farewell, and quietly settled into the backseat of the vehicle they had brought behind Millie, who was sitting in the passenger seat. Sighing as the vehicle came to life and began to speed across the desert towards their destination, Vash rested his head in his palm and watched the scenery speed by. It was evening by now, and the setting twin suns cast a warm, elegant light across the desert. It gleamed against the stone pillars that jutted out of the sand, and tinted the sky a thick, balmy orange. A warm, slightly gritty wind brushed against his face as the car zoomed over sand dunes, and though his two good friends were sitting up front, he felt rather compelled to sit and ponder in silence…

                "_A traveling priest I met in the desert…"_

                Vash blinked away his tears and shook his head. The past was gone…he had put it behind him.

                So why could he not put the death of Nicholas D. Wolfwood behind him as well?

                Vash knew why he refused to let the memory fade…but to hold on to such emotions after his death was self-destructive in the end. Even with this knowledge, it was hard to let it go.

~*~

                Not much had happened in December during the two days that the three had been absent; a few caravans from one of the other cities had come through and brought supplies or come to buy supplies, and as they came upon the city, they found themselves caught up in a veritable traffic jam of people coming and going. The braying of irritable thomases filled the cool morning air, and all about the car, people bustled and moved, trying to get their situation sorted out. 

                Eventually, they were able to get past the chaos and into the city, which was already moving with the morning routines of people going about trying to get to work or get their shopping done early in the day. There was a soft hum of voices in the streets as they drove through the streets, and slowly, Vash awoke from his slightly troubled sleep to see the life of the city playing before his eyes.

                He sighed slightly and closed his eyes, putting a hand to his face. He had dreamed about it again…He had dreamed of his loss of Rem, so many miles away from their destination…her dream of a world full of life dying in the atmosphere of this desolate planet…He had dreamed of how Legato Bluesummers had urged and forced Vash to pull the trigger to end of his life, taunting him until the end…He dreamed of following the thick trail of blood to the tall, ajar doors of a deserted church and pushing them open in a frantic rush only to find a figure kneeling at the altar, a large cross his only support, surrounded in the blood from his own grievous gunshot wounds…He dreamed of all the tears shed for the deaths he had seen…for the deaths of the two he loved. Rem had died trying to save what she had spent her entire life working for…and Knives destroyed it…Nicholas D. Wolfwood had died because he had refused to kill anymore…because he had realized that you could save both the spiders and the butterflies…and Knives and Legato could not have that…

                "Vash? Is there something bothering you?" came Meryl Strife's concerned voice from the driver's seat. Both she and Millie were looking back at him now that they had brought the car to a stop at an intersection, and both looked worried about him.

                "Oh, it's nothing," he replied, and smiled tiredly. "Just had a bit of a bad dream; nothing to worry about," he assured them, and was quite thankful when they finally pulled up near where his home was. Not that he disliked being around the girls, of course, but right now...he just wanted to have a while to himself. What the child had said to him yesterday, as well as his dream, had reminded him of what he had been trying to put behind him.

                He quickly ascended the stairs up to where his small apartment was, his coat waving deliberately behind him. The darkness of areas not yet lit up by the morning sun shrouded his face in shadows as he strode, and he was thankful when he came to his room and stepped inside, locking the door behind him.

                "Ah, dear brother…I was wondering when you were to return. I myself have only been awake for the past two days…I noticed that you bandaged the very wounds that you yourself inflicted…you were too thoughtful."

                Vash turned in surprise at the sound of the familiar voice and found himself looking directly into the calm, surprisingly serene expression of his twin brother, who was sitting in a chair near a window, looking down at the streets below with a strangely passive expression on his face. A bit startled, Vash let his thoughtful unhappiness fade a bit into a small smile, and stepped towards his brother.

                "Well, you didn't expect me to just leave you out in the desert to die, did you?" Vash asked rhetorically, and sat down in a nearby chair, resting his elbow on the tabletop and relaxing gently. "You are my brother, after all, and I'd be hurting her feelings if I let you die," he finished, a slight smile on his handsome face.

                Knives turned his head a bit at the mention of Rem Saverem and almost narrowed his eyes, but he caught himself and instead left his expression thoughtfully blank. 

                "Yes…Rem Saverem…you still are so attached to her even after all these years…and your philosophy on humanity still hasn't changed…I figured that you'd be cynical of it all…but no, you remain true to her words. I'm impressed," he replied, and turned his eyes back to the window so he no longer faced his brother. "So…you have confronted your past…and won…and have returned to this city to live among the humans and lead a peaceful existence," he replied; more of a statement than a question. "And you have brought me here with you, knowing full well of what I am capable of making you do…" He trailed off. "You remember July…so why risk it?" he asked, turning his head again and eyeing Vash carefully.

                Vash furrowed his brow slightly and smiled a bit. "Because I want to help you understand all that Rem taught me…because your ticket to the future…is always blank…" he said quietly. "I know that you're capable of so much more than destruction, if you just let me help you," he finished, and stood. He stepped quietly over to where Knives sat, and rested a gloved hand gently on his shoulder, looking out the window. "So…will you let me help you?"

                Knives said nothing at Vash's inquiry; he knew that, until he was completely healed, he would have to put up with his brother's incessant lessons of pacifism and humanitarianism…But he could at least let his brother believe that he was indulging in those pathetic little fantasies of his…

                "Very well, Vash…show me just how we can save both the spiders…and the butterflies…"

~*~

Author's Notes:

Thank you for reading this so far! Because of college and marching band, I've been having a bit of trouble finding time to write on this fic! But have no fear, for I am still here! Thanks to all you people who are reviewing…I think I have...two…Sadness. But thanks you guys, anyway. ^_^

For future reference, the pairing, which some of you may have discovered, is VashxWolfwood, not VashxKnives, as it may seem here at first. They're brothers to me, first and foremost. Not lovers. Ugh. But how is it going to be VashxWolfwood? Well…you'll just have to read and see.

There will be at LEAST 11 parts to this fic, and it will get progressively darker as it goes. There will be character death and a lot of religious symbolism of the Christianity sort. I hope that you continue to enjoy my fic, and please review!


	3. Chapter Two: The Pact

**~*Chapter Two – The Pact*~**

                "Your wounds are practically healed, Knives," Vash the Stampede remarked with a pleasant smile as he unwound the bandages from his brother's torso and tossed them away. The bruises and lacerations that had once marred Knives' chest and abdomen were faded, and he had been able to walk around without Vash's aid for several weeks. It had been almost a month since Knives had awakened, and during the time that he had been healing, he had been dividing his time between Vash's philanthropy lessons and reading books on the history of humanity and their various religions. Vash noted with a pleased eye that whenever Knives was reading, particularly the works on religion, he seemed deeply absorbed in what they had to say.    

                "Yes…all due to your kindness, Vash," he remarked, looking up at his brother with a faint smile. Inwardly, he was disgusted by the way he was being forced to act, but he knew better than to do otherwise…the sooner he was well, the sooner he could depart and act on his newfound knowledge and implement his new approach to the human infestation. "But I will not remain here forever…just as you have things to tend to, so have I," Knives replied in quiet voice.

                Vash nodded and stepped back, closing the satchel of medical supplies and moving across the small room to put them away. "I understand," he replied, smiling pleasantly. "It would be wrong of me to try and keep you cooped up here," he continued, and reached up into the closet that he had stored the supplies in, and pulled out the clothing that he had brought Knives here in. It had been cleaned and mended as needed, and he turned to his brother, who had stood and stretched a bit. Handing over the futuristic looking suit to him, Vash stepped back and smiled. 

                "So…you are going to leave today then?" he asked as he turned away so his brother could get dressed. The sounds of rustling clothing and clasps being fastened sounded from behind him, and once they stopped, Knives made a satisfied sound and sighed.

                "That's right…Thanks to you, Vash, I finally realize the errors I made in the past…and I wish to go forth and rectify those past mistakes. After all…just like Rem taught you…your ticket to the future is indeed always blank."

                Vash's expressive eyes lit up with a happy smile at Knives' words, meeting his brother's ice blue gaze with a nod. It was the knowledge that he had finally gotten through to his brother…the fact that Rem's teachings had not been in vain…that fueled this smile, and as his brother finished slipping on his boots and stood, the former gunslinger strode over and embraced Knives tightly.

                "Good luck, Knives. I hope you are able to complete what you are about to start," he said, and stepped back. Knives was slightly surprised as Vash's affection, but knew that he shouldn't be, and patted him on the back a bit before moving to retrieve his things. Vash watched as Knives gathered up what few belongings he had, including the pistol that was the brother to his own, his slightly sad smile still playing on his lips. As Knives threw his satchel over his shoulder, he turned to Vash and regarded him carefully.

                "I will not let myself be slowed this time," he assured his brother, and stepped towards the door. As he grasped the doorknob and opened the door, he paused, his back facing his brother.

                "Oh, and Vash…"

                "Yes?"

                "Don't let the death of Nicholas D. Wolfwood tear you up. Better that you accept his death and move on," he replied, and smiled faintly at his brother, who looked both surprised and slightly embarrassed. "You can't hide your thoughts from me," he replied, and with a quick wave of his hand, he stepped out the door and was gone.

                Vash watched the door silently for a long time, a faint blush painting his cheeks. As realization that he was once again alone slowly hit him, a single tear slipped down his cheek, and he shook his head. 

                "You can say that easily, Knives…you weren't the one who lost him…"

~*~

                "Rectify my past mistakes indeed," Knives replied to himself, a dark smile playing on his features as he strode down the street. "I won't make the same oversights I did last time…you can be sure of that, dear, naïve Vash."

                A sinister chuckle escaped his throat as he walked, and as he passed down the crowded streets, he sneered slightly in disgust at the pestilence…these humans…that surrounded him. Their time was limited…he could not have them contaminating his potential Eden any longer…His previous failure was merely a setback…If Vash truly thought he could change his views on humanity, then he was a fool. 

                The incessant babble of the town buzzed like a hive of bees as he neared the edge of December…insects, the lot of them. They were unfit to walk the same ground that he and Vash did…imperfect, irrational creatures. But he knew just how to rid himself of their ilk…He inwardly thanked his brother heartily for the informative reading material he had been given…If he hadn't have, the going would have been much more difficult. But the answer to his pest control problem was quite literally dropped into his lap. Grinning to himself, he looked out towards the stretch of endless desert before him, and breathed deeply. Soon, this air would be pure…

                Soon, the cityscape that was December had disappeared over the edge of the horizon, and desolation surrounded Knives. A hot, gritty sand blew against him, causing his cropped blond hair to move erratically. A determined expression painted his young face, but he had to keep walking until the twin suns met the horizon and then…then he could put his plan into motion…

                "Only a few more minutes," Knives told himself, and stopped, ducking behind a sandstone pillar that jutted out of the desert, casting shade over him. Dropping his satchel to the ground, he furiously tugged it open and began to pull books from its depths. Behind the pillar, the wind was blocked, and he was able to open books and anchor the pages with nearby rocks without much trouble. A bit of sweat dripped down his brow as he worked fervently, fighting the short time in which he had to complete the ritual. Quickly, he began to draw in the sand, his brow furrowed sharply as he went. The design was small at first, but as Knives continued, it began to grow, its lines and curves shaping a grotesque and fearful picture; a terrifying caricature of what could almost be Horror personified. The thing in the sand seemed to writhe and move even as Knives drew, and when he was finished, he stepped back and picked up the book, holding it in both hands. He looked down at the ancient human text, Latin, he recognized, and furrowed his brow. Even if humans were parasites and things to be rid of, they invented rather intriguing ways to destroy themselves.

                As the sun began to set, Knives' voice rang out over the desert, speaking the ancient words in a slow, deliberate manner. Though he was speaking over the sound of rushing wind, his voice seemed to resound over it, as if supernaturally amplified. It echoed ominously over the dunes and suppressed all other sounds, and as Knives neared the end of the demonic incantation, the ground began to shake. The pillar he stood under began to crack and groan against the strain of the earthquake, but he did not move, and as he uttered the last words, he snapped the book shut and stepped away from the creaking pillar. He didn't know what to expect…would He erupt from the ground as magma from a volcano, or would He appear in a wreath of hellish flame, surrounded in all His demonic glory?

                The wind began to pick up as the sun fell past the horizon, and the sketch traced in the sand began to glow like a flame. Though the sand surrounding the drawing moved with furious intent, the drawing itself was far from smudged, and the roaring sound of a freight train screamed in his ears.

                Suddenly, the wind and sound ceased, almost as if it were bottled up and put away somewhere. Knives looked forward at the drawing, various papers and books scattered about where he had laid his satchel to rest, but none disturbed the grotesque drawing. Slightly windblown, the ill-intentioned young man stood, looking out over the darkening, desolate landscape. It was eerily silent, a sharp contrast from the violent gales that had ceased only moments before. 

                Furrowing his brow, Knives stepped out a few feet from the pillar and looked around. Nothing but the purple horizon and the ghostly stillness met his wary, questioning expression. After several moments, he narrowed his icy eyes and grimaced. 

                "Foolish superstitious humans," he remarked disdainfully into the hushed gloom, his voice echoing slightly over the dunes. "I suppose I will have to find my means of vengeance elsewhere…"

                "Now now…there's no need to be impatient…don't think that I don't have better things to do than to answer the call of some pathetic human…" came the silky, unnervingly sinister reply from several feet away. 

                Knives turned quickly, his anger at being referred to as a human forgotten for a moment as he found himself in new company. Standing beside the stone pillar, leaning easily against it, stood a figure, silhouetted against the slowly disappearing sun. He appeared to be dressed normally for the humans of the neighboring towns, but unlike the humans, he was undeniably beautiful; an Adonis among mere men. Dark hair framed a tan face, and unfathomably black eyes peered out from beneath the careless hair. Glints of unearthly red peered into the cold blue depths of Knives' eyes, and an easy, knowing smile fell on perfect lips as he took in Knives' surprised expression. Indeed, he appeared more suitable to be among the ranks of the angels than to hail from the brimstone lair of Hell.

                "Ah, not quite what you expected, I imagine," came the voice again, followed by a low chuckle, dark and undeniably wicked. "Temptation comes in many forms, as I am sure you know very well, Millions Knives," he continued, and grinned. "Yes…I know you're no human…I have several among my ranks who have mentioned you quite often…and now…I suspect you…wish my help?" The sneer was evident in his voice, and he took a step forward.

                Knives remembered well the story of Lucifer; he had read the tale before in one of the books Vash had gotten for him. An angel banished into the depths of Hell for defiant and sinful acts against the Lord God…and he had become Satan. But that did not strip away the fact that he had once been an angel, and his appearance showed that.

                "Yes," Knives replied, and frowned. He suspected that this entity; this Satan, wished to have his allegiance; he wanted him to show him true fear and groveling…but Knives was no pitiful human, and he would not succumb so easily. "Yes, I do indeed wish for your assistance," he replied as the fallen angel slowly stepped towards him, that horrible crimson and ebony eyes boring into him. "For over two hundred years...this planet has been diseased…it has been plagued by a pestilence that I see as inferior, and I wish to find a…cure…to this disease…I have tried before, but my meddling brother felt it necessary to interfere, and I was…temporarily set back."

                As Knives spoke, the Lord of Hell grinned morbidly. He knew exactly what this plant was talking about…and God and all his angels, who knew not of the plants as they did of the humans, would not easily be able to trace the source…

                "Ah…yes, I think I know what you mean," he replied, and chuckled. Reaching into a pocket, he pulled out a small flask that held an odd, silvery opaque liquid within. "Here…I have a pesticide…not unlike the bubonic plague of the Earth's Middle Ages…but slower…lingering…"

                Knives looked up at the flask and a sudden, maddening grin began to form on his lips. "You would give it to me? As well as some of your own to reinforce and hide the trail? In exchange, I will offer you and your kind this planet where only two our superior races will rule, and all the human souls that perish here…"

                The dark angel Lucifer smiled as Knives began to reach for the flask, and pulled it away a bit.

                "Quite a hefty promise…yes, I will give you what you ask…but should you fail…" He looked at the silvery liquid for a moment, and then looked up again. "You will be mine…"

                Knives swallowed, frowning firmly. "I will not fail again…"

                "Good," grinned Satan. "Then let me give you the information you need…to aid you, you will have a faction of lesser demons…they will answer to you unless they receive higher orders…and to aid you in controlling this faction, you will have three old allies at your side…And this," he replied, and held the flask out to Knives. 

                "Take what sustains the humans…and turn it against them…I trust you know well what I mean…" he replied, and grinned as Knives took the flask quickly from his hand.

                "Remember…should you fail…you will be mine…"

~*~

                It had been several days, almost three weeks, since Knives had left December, and Vash had grown troubled. Recently, there had been disquieting reports coming in from the far off city of May that an odd illness had began to plague the citizens. Many had already died, and though they were trying valiantly, they couldn't find the source or the cure. They were hastily requesting aid, and several medical caravans had been dispatched in the past two weeks. But the caravans had failed to return, and soon, the reports and requests for aid ceased altogether. 

                Vash furrowed his brow as he went about his small home, pulling on his boots and buttoning up the long red trenchcoat that had once hoped he had abandoned for good. But in the wake of these new disturbances, he would reluctantly have to take up his gun and coat again to protect the innocent. He realized that, due to his lack of human heritage, he would not be as susceptible to this horrific disease that had suddenly appeared out of the desert. 

                As he stepped up to the small armoire that served as a small dresser and bookshelf, he sighed and opened the door. He had hoped that he would never have to take up his gun again and live a peaceful life, but it seemed that this was not his destiny. As he pulled open a small drawer and let the cold steel and nickel glint into his eyes, he frowned and picked it up. There was a spinning sound as he loaded it and spun the barrel expertly, and quickly pocketed it. He knew better than to let the people see the weapon in full view while he was still in the city.

                 He picked up the small piece of paper that he had written a note on, knowing full well that Millie and Meryl would be visiting him soon. It advised them strongly not to follow him for their own safety, and refrained from telling him where it was that he was headed. He left it sitting on the table, and leaned over the table for a moment, looking at the grain of the wood underneath his gloved fingers for a moment before rising. There was one last thing he had to retrieve. 

He strode across the stone floor for a moment to a carefully locked door, and after unlocking it; he gripped the doorknob and took a breath, steeling himself. The door creaked open, and his green eyes fell upon a large, muslin covered cross, leaning gently against the wall and in very good care. Vash reached in with a gloved hand and grasped one of the leather straps, pulling the large weapon from the floor and hefting it onto his back. He carried it in memory…but truth be told, he would much rather have the Punisher's original owner be carrying it with an easy grin…Vash would really have enjoyed the company…

                For the first time in many years, he would travel alone…

                He passed down the streets, wading through the hustle and bustle of the city, and listened carefully for anything of May City and its plight. Most of what he caught was inane babble and random comments concerning the marketplace or the price of certain goods, and so he walked on, thankfully unnoticed. He was careful to avoid the block on which the Bernadelli Insurance Agency was located; that was a surefire way to get spotted and then he'd be in deep for sure.

                As he stepped out of the city limits and began to trek out into the desolate desert, he looked out over the rolling sand and frowned. It would be a long journey; a week at the most on foot, but there would be small stops along the way in small little spots in the road, and times of rest. But he knew that he must hurry. The lives of those innocents counted on him…

~*~

                "Um…Sempai?"

                "Yes, what is it, Millie? Vash didn't decide to back out on his turn to make dinner again, did he? That'll be the fifth time this month!"

                "Um…no…Mr. Vash left us a letter…"

                Meryl Strife turned to face her taller friend and partner with a slightly exasperated look as she regarded Millie's perplexion. The taller woman was holding a hastily scribbled note that was clearly in Vash's handwriting and was looking at it curiously as she stood in the open doorway that led into Vash's home. Meryl sighed and reached up, deftly plucking it from the confused hands of her friend.

                "What is that goofball up to this time?" he asked herself quietly as she began to read the letter. As her dark eyes trailed over the words, her fingers slowly began to crumple the paper and her face began to flush with rage.

                "What...I can't believe…that silly, blockheaded…of all the…" she began to mutter as she proceeded to form the paper into a tiny little ball. "Argh!"

                Millie blinked at Meryl's sudden onslaught of rage, and smiled nervously. "Does this mean we're going to go find him again?" she asked as she watched the smaller woman stomp off in a determined fashion. Meryl turned to her triumphantly, clearly indomitable.

                "That's right, Millie! And I have a good idea as to where he's headed to…If he thinks he can shake us that easily, he's got another thing coming! Who knows what kind of crazy stunt he'll decide to pull if we're not around! You remember what happened when we left him to his own devices! Let's go."

~*~

"My Lord! My Lord God, I have fearful news!"

                The smooth, wise voice resounded gently in the vast alabaster hall as the elegant, ivory winged angel set his feet upon the golden floor, and there was a soft murmuring of voices from those angels who had been nearby. The tall young man, wreathed in white celestial light, strode purposefully across the hall, his handsome, ethereal face creased slightly in worry. As he came upon the sacred, benevolent deity, the archangel Gabriel, his herald, stepped up and looked at the lesser angel in concern.

                "What is it that troubles you so that you left your watch to come warn us?" he asked gently, clearly concerned. But he stepped aside as a warm, mild hand rested against his shoulder, and he bowed slightly as the Almighty took his place.

                "Yes…I know about Lucifer's plans," he said, his voice placid and low, rolling as the thunder and smooth as the spring rain. "They are vague, unclear even to me…he has found some way to mask his intentions…"

                "My Lord, there has to be a way that you can find and stop him before he harms the fledgling human societies on the planet! How can you say that you can not see fully what Satan is planning?"

                "He is cunning, but not infallible," the wise entity remarked, and suddenly smiled, turning to Gabriel. "So, I will have to send a pair of eyes to Gunsmoke to watch for me…someone who has been there before and knows the terrain through former experience."        

                "My Lord, certainly you can't mean him."

                "I do indeed…"

                "Meaning no disrespect, but he is rather unorthodox…there's no telling what sort of trouble he could cause…"

                "And that is precisely why I intend to send him."

~*~

                Many days had passed since the man known as the Humanoid Typhoon had stepped out of December in reluctant but determined pursuit of a new quest, and now, as the sun sat far across the desert, the outlaw in red came wearily upon the edge of the ridge that overlooked the city of May. The last time he had set foot in this town, he had participated in a quick draw contest with a certain gunslinging priest and saved a family from impending hardship and debt. He smiled sadly at the memories, but as he gazed down at what he remembered as a bustling city, he saw just the opposite.

                The city was dark…uncommonly gloomy for even the darkest Gunsmoke nights, and not a single light lit up the buildings that ran the length of the streets. There were no sounds of evening activity from the streets, and no movement within the city limits. It was barren…like a ghost town. 

                Vash furrowed his brow a bit. From what he saw and knew, the plant was working at top efficiency, and should have sustained them…but now the city lay in ruins…

                Staring down there for a bit longer, the Punisher resting briefly against him rather than on his back, Vash sighed. It was about a mile from here to the edge of the city…he'd reach it by nightfall. 

                "What has dried you up, May? What has brought such devastation here that you would fall so silen-"

                "VASH THE STAMPEDE?! What in God's name is going on inside that spiky, peabrained, donut-loving head of yours?!" 

                The silence that had befallen the somber scene was quickly silenced as the angered, unmistakable voice of Meryl Strife echoed over the dunes. The leap that Vash executed in response would almost have landed him directly in the middle of May,  and he nearly dropping the Punisher to the sand in surprise as he did so. Turning sharply towards the voice, he saw Millie and Meryl riding over the ridge on a pair of thomases, carrying small amounts of luggage. Millie seemed rather cheerful, and waved at him jovially, but Meryl was positively seething.

                "Geez!" the outlaw cried, putting a hand to his chest in shock as they rode up and dismounted. "Keep it down! You yell loud enough to wake the dead!"

                Meryl, however, didn't seem worried about waking the dead at all, and marched up to him, hand raised. There was a resounding smacking sound as her palm came into close, personal contact with Vash's face, and his yellow-tinted sunglasses fell rather haphazardly from his nose from the force of the hit. Immediately, a gloved hand went up to the offended cheek, and Vash looked up at Meryl with a sheepish, pained look.

                "Ow! Did you really have to hit me?" he asked, slightly put out as he rubbed his cheek painstakingly. 

                "Did you really have to go gallivanting off on some silly, selfless crusade without telling anyone and expecting us to just sit back and let you go cause who knows what kind of trouble?!" she retorted, her voice echoing off of the dunes remarkably well. 

                "Er…well…yeah," he admitted, looking up at Meryl with imploring green eyes. "I didn't want you to come with me…it's dangerous with this disease going around, and I didn't want either you to get sick…but I suppose…I suppose now that you've come all this way, I really can't stop you," he replied, and stood back up straight. He gave them both slight smiles, and turned his head back to the desolate city.

            "We'll be there by dusk if we hurry…but please…be careful…"

**Author's Notes:**

Ah! I'm so sorry for not getting this out faster! I've been really busy preparing for finals, and it was just a LONG chapter! Six pages in Microsoft Word, whew!

But, hey, now we're getting into the thick of things. Things have started to pick up pace, and I'll introduce that strange rookie angel in the next chapter. ^_~ I'm sure many of you probably know who it is…

The chapters after this will vary in length, and hopefully, they won't be nearly as long as this one. Also, I want to make note that after this Friday, I will be leaving campus for Christmas Break, and I will not be back until January 7, 2004. I have Christmas Break AND a trip to the Sugar Bowl in New Orleans ahead of me. But don't worry! I'll get Chapter Three up as quickly as possible!

Also, I apologize for the sketchiness that this chapter was in. I don't know too much about summoning demons, and I find that personifying God is a pretty daunting task. So please be kind! Reviews are gladly accepted! Thanks! More soon!


	4. Chapter Three: The Messenger of God

**~*Chapter Three – The Messenger of God*~**

****

                "My God…what happened here?"

                The wind howled softly through the deserted streets of May as the trio of travelers stepped through the dusty gates into the decimated city. Evening had fallen, and shadows loomed in every corner from the eerie lack of lighting. Not a soul walked the streets; not a window was lit…no rowdy, raucous voices sounded from the deserted bars that dotted the street. There was a hopeless, dismal air about the entire main street as they entered, almost as though the life was stolen from the very streets; the very buildings that stood on either side of them. It was too silent…even the quietest little town had some sound…It was almost suffocating, how the sound seemed to be stolen from their ears.  It was as though something besides the shadows were lurking down these streets…waiting…watching…

                Vash shivered slightly at the lack of life as Millie and Meryl tied up the thomases, then they slowly strode down the streets. He remembered his last visit to this city…North of here was the shooting grounds where the annual Quick Draw contest was held… Both girls had their hands on their guns, ready for anything, though it seemed a bit pointless…there was no one here that could possibly attack him. Even so, his hand as at his hip as well, ready to draw in case anything should happen. As they reached the corner of the street that lead into the main throughway through the city, however, a sudden, overpowering stench struck their noses, causing the three of them to reel back in surprise. 

                "Sempai," coughed Millie, a hand to her nose and mouth as she turned her head. Her bright blue eyes were watering from the onslaught of the smell, and she could barely keep her eyes open from the heavy smell. Meryl shook her head, putting a hand on her companion's shoulder. She had pressed a cloth over her nose and mouth to block the scent of rot and decay from her senses, but even that helped little. 

                "I don't know, Millie!" she coughed, shaking her head. "I don't know what it could possibly be!"

                "…I do…" came the soft, unbelieving voice of Vash from a few feet away. His own hand was pressed over the lower portion of his face as well, but his deep green eyes were haunted and quietly horrified at what he saw down the dusty street before him. 

                Strewn pitilessly down the dusty street were corpses of people…men, women, children; left to rot where they had fallen. There were countless numbers down to the end of the street; it was obvious that most had been laying here for quite some time. Skin and hair hung off of partially visible bones and skulls, and some bodies seemed to have been decimated…

                "Oh my God…" Meryl said as she finally looked up. She exhaled slowly as she watched Vash slowly make his way down the street in a numb, detached fashion, and put a gentle arm around Millie as they started to follow him. "I…I had heard rumors of how horrible it was…but never did I think that…"

                "The medical caravans," Vash said quietly ahead of them. He had paused in his walking, a lone, remorseful breeze blowing the ends of his hair and his coat gently, and was looking down towards the end of the street. Sitting there, with the bodies of the doctors and nurses, were the two medical caravans that had been dispatched from December those weeks ago.

                "Even they could not combat this…" he said softly, his voice filled with soft sadness at the mortality before him. Kneeling before the body of a young woman, he went to close her glazed, almost black eyes, but stopped as his gloved hand brushed over a gaping bite wound in her throat. The blood had congealed long before, but the wound was fresh…saliva still hung on the decaying flesh. It was not the bite of starving animal…Slowly, Vash moved his trembling, gloved hand moving from her eyes carefully over to the gaping wound.

                "Millie…Meryl…what could have-"

                A sudden screeching sound echoed from down the street near the front gate, and another quickly followed it. It ripped through the dismal, morbidly silent city sharply, and the three of them gasped and turned. Vash withdrew his hand abruptly and stood hastily, shock and horror playing on his features.

                "The thomases!" Millie cried, her stun gun in her hand. Dust flew up violently as the three of them took off running, weapons in hand and ready for a battle. The terrified, carnal shrieking and the sounds of ropes being ripped drowned the sound of crunching gravel beneath their feet out, but as they turned the corner and aimed, they found nothing there but a pair of steaming, bloody carcasses still tied to the posts. The thomases seemed to have been skinned, and large pieces of flesh had been ripped from the bones by large, vicious jaws…Vash slowly lowered his gun in horror, and Meryl and Millie looked away.

                "What could possibly have done that so quickly…" Meryl managed as she finally forced herself to look up at the bloody corpses. 

                "I don't know…" he replied, his voice quiet against the eerily silent backdrop of the city. Slowly, he neared the still warm bodies of their animals, shocked and numb by the whole affair…the wounds were not unlike those on the woman he had seen before…"I….I've never seen anything like this bef-"

                A sharp, unearthly cry from the shadows suddenly cut off Vash's soft remark, and from the darkness leapt several creatures, their vicious, clawed hands lashing out at the crimson-clad outlaw. They were grotesque caricatures of humans; their skin a dark, mutilated red, and their hands and feet were clawed with talons not unlike an eagle's, only much sharper. Large, batlike wings, leathery and clawed, spread from their backs as they flew at him, and their faces were horrible, with dark crimson horns sprouting from their skulls.

                "Vash!?" cried Meryl as the unexpected horrendous onslaught struck Vash and sent him tumbling backwards.  His gun was out in a flash, and the sounds of gunshots accompanied the screeches as he knocked them back from him. He aimed to wound and subdue, but not to kill…

                The firing of a pair of Derringers and the loud blast from Millie's stun gun knocked the creatures back even further, and they ran towards Vash to aid him, but as they neared Vash again, the abominations seemingly shook off the attacks and came at not only Vash, but the girls as well.

                "No!" Vash cried, and aimed at one that had been flying for Mille. "Run! Find shelter! I'll take care of them and come after you! Go!"

                "But Vash, you can't do this alo-"

                "Go!"

                Meryl watched as Vash fought against the creatures single-handedly, blood flying from several slight wounds on his face and limbs, her Derringers still raised. She refused to let Vash die out here alone against such immeasurable odds!

                "Meryl, come on! If we stay out here, we'll be killed! Mr. Vash can handle himself!" Millie cried, grabbing her companion's hand and running. Meryl watched Vash fight, her teeth gritted, as they rounded the corner, and as they passed down the street, more of the things flew out from the darkness, flying after them. 

                "But where will we go!?" Meryl shouted as Millie dragged her down the street quickly, dodging their attackers. She looked at Millie, who still carried the Cross Punisher, and met her fearful blue eyes.

                "I…I don't know! Anywhere but here!" she cried as they rounded another corner. As they did so, a large building came into view ahead of them. Simple sandstone stairs led up to a pair of tall arched doors, and a stained glass window beneath a handsome cross decorated the front and roof of the building. "There! The church!" the taller woman cried, and stumbled up the stairs. As Meryl pulled the heavy doors open, Mille brought the cloth-covered cross around and knocked several of the creatures away as they flew at them, and after the doors were open, they ducked inside and slammed the doors shut. Breathless, Millie sat aside both her stun gun and the Cross Punisher, and she and Meryl began to barricade the doors and fortify the sanctuary of the abandoned church as best they could. 

                It was dark in there as Millie and Meryl dragged a large pew against the door. The heavy wooden seat made a loud, horrible scraping noise against the stone floors as they moved it, which was accompanied by the clanging and screeching of the creatures outside. As the girls worked, they failed to notice a soft light, like a candle or a lantern, appear out of a doorway at the front of the sanctuary. It moved quietly towards them, the footfalls far too quiet to be heard above the raucous din, but they were determined…

                Breathless, Millie dropped the pew against the large doors, making a loud thud as she did so, and began to pile other random artifacts against it; as many as she could find. 

                "Quick!" she said, afraid that the creatures would break in. "I just hope Vash is able to find us and get-"

                A soft set of fingers tapped her on the shoulder, startling her a bit. As she turned to look up at the tapper, she half expected it to be Vash standing there, a bit bloodied, a bit battered, but well. Instead, her eyes widened and a shocked gasp escaped her throat.

                "Hey there, honey," he said, a chuckle evident in his voice. He gestured to the large Cross Punisher with a smile. "Mind if I borrow that for a while?"

~*~

                "Engh!"

                Blood trickled down Vash's handsome face from various scratches as one of the vile monsters flew at him and shoved him forcefully against one of the buildings. His glasses were cracked and askew, and claw marks tore violently along the fabric of his red coat. In many places, the crimson cloth was stained a darker red by the blood that was seeping from his wounds. These…things seemed to have multiplied quickly in the few moments he had been fighting them, and he was losing…he knew he was losing. Every shot he made didn't seem to faze them…they just kept on coming…wasn't there any end? 

                Gritting his teeth, he raised his revolver, newly reloaded, and aimed into the oncoming horde, firing randomly. Several squeals of pain echoed in his ears, but their shock seemed to be momentary. It was almost as though they could sustain all wounds…heal themselves…

                The sound of swiftly running footfalls against gravel met Vash's ears as he fired into the mass, and he groaned, gritting his teeth. 

_'Not more…please, God…not more…'_

                The frantic footfalls were coming closer with each sound; they were coming up the street that Millie and Meryl had ran down to escape, and there was a strange urgency to them, a very real purpose…

                The running sound stopped suddenly, and amidst the mass of demons, Vash could see a figure standing down the street on the corner, moving very quickly. In the chaos, however, he couldn't tell who or what it was, and he stumbled to the side as one of the strange monsters flung itself at him and raked a vicious set of claws across his face. He cried out slightly, gritting his teeth, and brought a gloved hand to his face. Through the shrieking, he heard the rustle of heavy fabric and the unmistakably metallic sound of a gun being readied. 

                "What…?"

                All sounds were suddenly dwarfed as the air around him exploded and blew angrily against him, accompanied by a burst of light and the heat of a bomb being detonated. The force of the blast shoved him against the wall, and knocked him senseless for a few moments. The heat burned at him for but a moment as he raised his hand sharply in instinct to protect himself, not knowing what the Hell that was…Was this another of their powers? 

                Slowly, Vash lowered his arm and opened his eyes, fearing what he might see. His viridian eyes widened, however, as he saw nothing but a few bits of the creatures laying on the ground, obscured by the smoke that smelled suspiciously like gunpowder.

                "What…the Hell-"

                "What the Hell do you think you're doing, you idiot?!" shouted a voice from down the street, and Vash looked up sharply, surprised. "They're demons; you're not going to get rid of them by trying to wound them!?"

                "What…"

                Through the smoke, a figure stepped up, toting a rather familiar cross-shaped weapon over one shoulder. He peered down at Vash with worried, slightly annoyed cobalt eyes and frowned at him, his ruggedly handsome face slightly dusty. As he reached down and hauled Vash up by the collar of his coat, Vash's eyes widened and he gasped. He knew those eyes…

                "They're already dead, Vash," Nicholas D. Wolfwood said abruptly, putting his hand on the outlaw's shoulder firmly. "You're not going to be able to kill them conventionally…you're going to need help," he added, and grinned rakishly, winking. "That's why I'm here."

                Vash simply stared, all coherent thought forgotten in the sight of the strangely radiant face of Nicholas D. Wolfwood. That grin…no one could pull off that grin quite like the wily priest, and no one could carry that huge cross with such uncanny ease…but he was dead…

                "I saw you dead," Vash said distantly, yet emphatically, his peril forgotten for the moment. Nicholas grinned even wider and chuckled.

                "Yeah, and?" he asked, his eyes alight with mischief. "And when did I ever say that I wasn't dead? Listen, Tongari…if those are demons…and I'm here to help you…" He trailed off, hoping that Vash could get the general concept. 

                Vash frowned for a moment, trying to slow his pulse back down to a healthy rate. What did he mean? Surely he couldn't be an angel…it just didn't seem to suit Wolfwood at all. His thoughts, however, were cut off as the priest took Vash's revolver and looked at it pointedly for a moment, resting his hands firmly on the gun for a moment. 

                "There," he said, and put it back into Vash's hand with a knowing grin, then reached for the cybernetic arm. He took Vash's hand into his own and held it much as he did the revolver, focusing on it, almost. Vash felt his cheeks warm slightly at Nicholas' touch, and yet part of his mind was reeling. 

                Nicholas was standing here before him…talking, grinning, helping…holding his hand, for the love of Christ! But if he truly was sent from above…that might explain the curious radiance that glowed behind Wolfwood's eyes…Speaking of which, he knew that he should probably stop looking into Nicholas' eyes before the priest noticed…

                A sharp screeching sound echoed down the street, and Nicholas cursed loudly as he let go of Vash's hand. 

                "Here they come!" he said, and hefted the cross back onto his shoulder. He grinned over at Vash deviously and took aim. "Just like old times, eh?"

                Vash looked at his gun for a moment before raising it and taking aim. He returned the grin that Wolfwood offered him, and turned his gaze to the new wave of demons that were creeping out of the shadows like grotesque spiders.

                "Like old times…"

                The formerly still air erupted again into ethereal screams and the sound of heavy gunfire as the two reunited gunslingers let loose a barrage of ammunition on the newly identified demons. Smoke and dust flew into the air as bits of disposed devil scattered about the sandy streets. Nicholas watched Vash out of the corner of his eye, noting the blood that seeped freely from his wounds, and cursed inwardly. The demons wouldn't stop coming, even if just to spite the fact that the heavens had sent one angel to fight an entire army with only a set of three blessed guns. Gritting his teeth, he reached out and grabbed the back of Vash's coat. He could smell the acrid scent of blood on the outlaw as he pulled him closer.

                "We need to get you out of combat! You're in no condition to fight these bastards when you're bleeding all over the place!" he shouted near Vash's ear over the shrieks and shouts. Vash gasped slightly at the sudden tugging and turned his face to look at the priest, ignoring the trickle of blood that dangled on his lips. Wolfwood's face was laced with concern and worry, and as he saw the demons come for them. He growled and began to tug Vash down the street.

                "Wolfwood!" Vash cried, turning around as he ran to fire his remaining rounds into the horde. Breathless, he managed to wrench himself free of the priest's grip, but he ran after him, gritting his teeth. "Where…where are we going?!"

                Nicholas turned his head and grinned back at the outlaw, though worry still lingered in his cobalt eyes. "A place where they can't go! Come on! Millie and Meryl are waiting for us!"

                They rounded the corner that Wolfwood had appeared from and began a frantic dash for a large building at the end of the street. In the dark night, Vash could barely make out the shape of a large crucifix set upon a tall steeple, silhouetted against the light of the many moons. A church? Vash wasn't too knowledgeable in Christian dogma, but if Wolfwood could simply touch a weapon and give it the power to destroy wicked, then perhaps a holy structure like a church could protect those inside from the wicked.

                Grunting as he rushed up the sandstone stairs and tugged the tall doors open for Vash to enter, he turned and hefted the large cross up on his shoulder, aiming the top of it at the oncoming horde. "Get inside!" he cried to Vash, who had paused on the steps. "I'll follow!" 

                "But-"

                "Don't try to be valiant, you idiot! Get in there!" Nicholas cried, and pushed him inside. That done, he ran in front of the open doors, aiming the cross carefully, and fired. As a great explosion rang into the night, he grinned deviously and turned, rushing into the church and pulling the doors closed.

                "Well, that should keep them busy for a while," he said, pulling his cross from his shoulder and leaning it emphatically against the wall. He looked down the aisle at Vash, who was resting on a pew, being nursed and tended to by Millie and Meryl. He was still bleeding a bit, but he looked up from Meryl as Nicholas strode up towards them and pulled out a cigarette from the folds of his jacket. 

                "You really do lead an extraordinary life, Vash the Stampede," he said with a warm smile as he brought the cigarette to his lips, but there was an underlying wariness about his eyes as he spoke. "Though…I don't like the enemies you've attracted this time…" he said as the sound of demons shrieking outside floated up into the sanctuary. He struck a match against the rough stone of the pew and lit up, inhaling thoughtfully for a moment. He stared distantly up at the altar pensively for a moment before he felt eyes on him. Glancing back to where the girls were tending to Vash, he caught those viridian eyes on him, fixed on him almost, like a man obsessed. They were awestricken and filled with disbelief, and he could see that Millie and Meryl were casting glances at him as they worked, fear and confusion flickering in their eyes.

                "You three look as though you've seen a ghost," he said with a cheery grin, the cigarette dangling precariously from his lips as he spoke. 

                Vash swallowed as he heard the familiar, teasingly cocky tone in Wolfwood's voice, and raised a hand slightly to stop the girls from their work for a moment. 

                "I…have…" he said, finally letting his adrenaline subside to let cold shock and disbelief enter his system properly. His hands were trembling now at the sight of the supposedly dead priest standing a few feet away, leaning against a pew and smoking a cigarette in his usual fashion. He looked exactly the same as Vash had remembered in his dreams, and yet there seemed to be something different. Something in how his eyes seemed to radiate light behind those cobalt depths…

                A warm laugh escaped Nicholas' lips as he pulled the cigarette from his lips, holding it ably in his fingers. He looked at the dubious, stunned face on Vash's countenance for a moment, tilting his head slightly to the side, and brushed a few raven strands of hair from his face.

                "A ghost, huh?" he asked, crossing his arms. "I see…so…a ghost who can carry that thing," he said, pointing to the Cross Punisher, "Destroy demons, bless guns, and drag you halfway down the street…I already told you, Vash. I'm an angel."

                The simple statement, so profound and yet so straightforward, seemed to echo in the sanctuary as he stood there, smiling. He brought the cigarette back to his lips, a faint, knowing smile in his eyes, as he watched their various reactions. Vash remained very silent, probably pouring over the various events of what had just happened against the demons, while Meryl looked somewhat skeptical. Millie, however, looked positively enraptured.

                "Wow…a real angel?"

                Wolfwood grinned at her. "That's right. A guardian spirit, a heavenly messenger, an attendant of the Lord God Almighty…an angel." He smiled a bit, but as another piercing shriek filled the air outside, his smile faded. "But I'm not here to see how things are doing here and chit-chat about the afterlife," he remarked wryly. "The Big Guy, see…he knows everything that goes on when it comes to what Satan's up to, and He sent me here because someone…I don't know who, but someone has made a pact with Satan…that's why the demons have come…whoever did this has been given the power to control these demons, and I've been sent to try and find out who it is…and stop it…It's weird, really. For some reason, whoever it was that made the pact had some way of shielding God's omnipotent gaze from him…" Frowning thoughtfully for a moment, he exhaled slightly, ignoring the wail of demons outside, then looked back to his companions, letting his eyes linger a bit on each of them before finally looking down at Vash. "Funny how Fate keeps throwing us together, even after death," he said with a worried smile. He let his eyes linger on Vash for a moment before he sighed and stepped up to Millie and Meryl. "We can't stay here for long…you both are in grave danger because of this disease that's been spreading, and I don't want to linger here longer than we have to. I'm an angel, but I haven't yet gained the ability to heal," he said, and reached for the girls' guns. "You won't be able to kill these things with conventional weapons, just like Vash found out the hard way," he said, casting a look over at the outlaw with a fond twinkle in his eye. "I'm going to bless them…" he said as Millie handed over her obtrusive stun gun and Meryl took off her overcoat that held her Derringers. He put his hands against each of the weapons, and smiled faintly as he handed them back. "It'll give you the ability to smite the wicked without me having to lay on hands on each of the damn things-"

                The sound of shattering glass echoed through the large room, cutting off Nicholas' comment abruptly. All four turned sharply as a sizable stone sailed through one of the fine stained glass windows, sending shards of colored glass across the sandstone floor. 

                "Damn!" Wolfwood cried, gritting his teeth as the thrown rock clattered angrily against the floor. Turning his head back quickly to face Vash and the girls, he motioned quickly for the door. "Come on; we're hitting the road. You girls are in danger and Vash isn't in any condition to fight, at least not for a day or two." As he said this, he put out the cigarette and strode over to pick up his cross. He turned as Millie and Meryl quickly gathered their own things, while Vash stood and reloaded his revolver and looked up at Nicholas for a fleeting moment before turning his gaze aside and stepping out into the aisle.

                "But how will we get out?" Meryl asked as she hurried up to where the priest stood. He looked down at her, then up at the other two as they joined them, and shook his head. 

                "I'm not sure. But we'll find a way, by God, even if I have to tear this whole damn city apart. Come on!"

                With a large creaking sound, he shoved the doors open, cross hefted onto his shoulder, and charged down the stairs, Vash to his left, and the girls trailing close behind. The discharge of weapons muffled the shrieks as the demons viciously attacked, but the hellish attack was slowed by the divine power that Wolfwood had endowed each of them with.

                Gravel and sand crunched under their feet as they ran through the streets, shooting at their attackers aggressively. Small flashes of light lit up the dismal night when a bullet hit its target, but another vile shadow of darkness quickly smothered it, taking its fallen brother's place.

                "Damn!" Vash cursed as he fired his last round at the demons, and began to run, following Wolfwood's retreating figure. The sound of a machine gun emptying itself into the onslaught rang out from the Cross Punisher as he followed, reloading six rounds into the chamber of his own revolver. He saw the girls only a foot or two behind him, doing the same, but noticing that these horrendous things were quickly overtaking all four of them.

                "They're everywhere!" Millie cried as she fired into the horde. She shrieked slightly in pain as a razor sharp talon slashed across her face, causing her to stumble back against Meryl, who had been firing her Derringers into the fray. "Mr. Wolfwood, there's just too many!"

                "Oh…shit!" Nicholas cursed. He wished he'd planned this better, but he really hadn't had much of a choice! No way to escape, no clue how they were going to even find a way to escape…

                Nicholas suddenly paused as they rounded a corner, and slowly grinned. Now that…That was more like it! A few feet ahead, almost plowed into the side of a building, was an old jeep of sorts, looking relatively unharmed, though quite dirty. 

                "Guys! Found our escape route!" he shouted back to them, and began to run towards the vehicle.

                Vash turned his head as he saw Nicholas rush up to an old, beat-up looking jeep and fling open the door. He appeared to fiddle with the steering wheel for a moment before hitting it, and bending over to lean under the dashboard. Waiting until the girls had ran past him, he fired at a demon that had swooped down on him, then turned and ran for where Wolfwood was still leaning under the wheel, his feet leaning out of the side of the car in a rather amusing position.

                "What are you doing!?" he heard Meryl cry as he ran up and piled into the front passenger seat. "Don't you have the keys?!"

                There was a pause, and Nicholas looked up at her amidst several sets of cut wires that were hanging out in a manner that suggested something rather illegal.

                "No…do you?"

                "Augh!"

                "No time to argue, Sempai!" Millie cried as she dragged Meryl into the back seat and buckled her seatbelt. "Get in!"

                "Millie, we're not going anywhere?! We're like sitting ducks in this thing!"

                "Nicho…" Vash paused as he watched the priest fiddle and mess with the wires frantically underneath the dashboard. His face was entirely concealed, and he was mumbling something irritable to himself. "Nicholas D. Wolfwood, are you _hotwiring_ this damn thing?!" Vash shouted over the din.__

                "Do you have any better ideas, Tongari?!" came the annoyed, muffled reply. Several gunshots from a pair of Derringers accompanied his outburst, alongside the pained, spiteful shrieks of the wounded demons.

                "But it'll never work!?" Vash shouted, ducking sharply to avoid a talon raking against his face. "And I told you never to call m-"

                There was a sparking sound and a sudden rumbling sound as the jeep roared to life, promptly silencing Vash's incredulous outburst. Jubilantly triumphant, Wolfwood clambered back into the driver's seat, grinning.

                "Ha! Never work, will it?" he asked, grinning over at Vash, who looked slightly deflated. "Buckle up, we're getting the hell out of here!"

                Vash knew that glint in Wolfwood's eyes…he'd seen it right before he'd blown the engine out on his Angelina II trying to race across the desert trying to make "record time" to Oregon. Gulping, Vash went frantically for the seatbelt as he heard the priest-angel put the jeep into gear, but as he brought it over to the latch and tried to fasten himself in…nothing happened. His eyes widened as he heard the engine rev up with the urging of Wolfwood's foot, and he frantically tried to buckle himself, and failed miserably. 

                "Wolfwood! Wolfwood!" He shouted over the din as he tried to tie the belt around him. "My seatbelt is-WAAGH?!"

                All other complaints were forgotten as the jeep sprang to life and sped down the dirty road, kicking up dust and splattering demons against the windshield. Grinning deviously as he sped recklessly through the deserted streets, hitting everything but the buildings, Nicholas seemed rather unaware of Vash's desperately terrified screams one seat over. The jeep vaulted over bumps in the road and other obstacles, turned sharp corners with wild abandon, and yet the priest seemed rather unworried about the state of his passengers.

                "Mr. Wolfwood?!" shrieked Meryl from the seat directly behind him, "Are you insane!? You're going to get us all killed?!"

                He laughed over the noise of the jeep tearing through the hell-laden city towards the desert, the grin evident in his tone.

                "Have faith, Meryl!" he replied in response. "Have faith!"

                There was a gritty sound as the jeep broke out of the city limits and into the inky desert, kicking up all sorts of debris behind them. Sand dunes raced by, but the trip had grown at least slightly calmer. They only had vaulted over a few sand dunes since their departure from May. 

                After a few moments had passed and the shrieking of the demons had been left far behind, Nicholas decided that they could stop, and abruptly hit the brakes. They squealed in protest as the jeep skidded precariously across the dunes to a stop, dust and sand filling the air around them. 

                "Well, that was fun!" Wolfwood said as the cloud began to clear, and turned to look at his passengers. All of them looked rather harrowed save for Millie, who besides looking a bit windblown and slightly scratched seemed just fine. Meryl was still gripping the car door like a lifeline, and was looking at Wolfwood with utmost hatred.

                "Fun?! Fun?!" she cried at him, his face covered in dust and her hair terribly mussed. "If that was your idea of fun, I…Augh!"

                Blinking slightly, but completely unabashed, he turned his gaze to Vash, who was clutching both ends of his seatbelt and looking rather traumatized. He was laid sideways in his seat, peering up into Nicholas' radiant eyes with a look and lingering terror and spite.

                "Oh…I _hate_ you…" he muttered, blond hair falling hopelessly into his face as he tried to sit up.

                "Ah, come on Vash!" Wolfwood said, slapping him heartily on the back as the outlaw sat up, "You've got hardly any qualms about flying through typhoons, but you can't stand a little car ride?"

                Vash stared at him incredulously as though the priest had gained an extra eye. "You're insane!?" he shouted, his voice echoing across the desert. "What the Hell kind of angel ARE you!?"

                Nicholas grinned as he leaned back in his seat, chuckling slightly. It was nice to know that some things hadn't changed.

                "I told you, Vash. I'm an angel. Not a saint."

~*~

Whoo! I have finally finished Chapter Three! Sorry for the delay, I've been procrastinating so bad…eheh…

So, did you guys like it? I hope you did…^_^ YAY! For Nicholas is back in the action! Sorry, no yaoi for now. Y'all will just have to wait for another chapter or so…Not that I won't have innuendo. Of course there will be innuendo. ^_^

I'm not sure when I'll get Chapter Four out. School just got back into full swing, so…As Nick said, "Have faith…" Reviews are most gladly accepted! ^_^


	5. Chapter Four: The Art Of Vehicular Mecha...

**~*Chapter Four – The Art Of Vehicular Mechanics*~**

                "What IS it with you and moving vehicles?!"

                "Calm down, Meryl! It's not a big deal…see? All we need is a little bit of water and-"

                "WHERE THE HELL ARE WE GOING TO FIND WATER IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FREAKING DESERT?!"

                The infuriated voice of Vash the Stampede echoed over the gleaming dunes as he glared incredulously at Nicholas D. Wolfwood's unabashed face. They'd only been traveling for a little over a day, and already, the priest had managed to tear the radiator asunder with his wily driving skills. The desert seemed to stretch endlessly around them, desolate, barren, and most importantly, scorching hot. 

                Sighing, the priest leaned against the hood of the derelict jeep, letting the cigarette smolder gently in his lips as he thought. Sweat shined lightly on his tanned face, and he ran a hand through his raven hair, brushing aside the hair that had begun to cling to his face and the back of his neck. That was a very good question that Vash had presented. Just where _were_ they going to find a water supply sufficient enough to fill the ripped radiator back up once it was patched up?

                "Honestly, Mr. Wolfwood," Meryl said irritably, wiping her face lightly with her hand, "if your driving hadn't have killed us, then the desert certainly will do the trick!"

                "Meryl, Meryl…" Wolfwood chided gently, as though he were kindly berating a small child. "I promise you, it's not the desert or my driving that you should be worried about killing you. There's a reason I got you and Millie out of there as fast as possible. The two of you are in very real danger with that disease running around." He paused then, and turned to Vash with a curious expression. "Come to think of it, Tongari, why exactly did you let them follow you to May in the first place?"

                "Now, don't start blaming this on me, Wolfwood," Vash said, strands of flaxen hair drooping into his face from the mixture of sweat and heat. "I DID leave on my own! It's their own fault they decided to follow me," he remarked, remembering well the rather painful slap he had received upon meeting up with them. 

                "Well, Millie and I couldn't just let you run off by yourself again! Who knows what sort of trouble you could cause!" Meryl retorted, crossing her arms emphatically. She stopped for a moment after she spoke, and looked around vaguely for a moment. "Come to think of it, where IS Millie?" she asked, looking slightly concerned.

                The three that had remained congregated near the dusty, steadfastly stationary jeep looked around quickly as they realized that the fourth member of their quartet was rather obviously missing. 

                "She couldn't have gone far," Nicholas asserted as he stepped away from the jeep and began to trudge a few feet over the crest of the nearest rocky dune. "She was with us when the jeep broke down, and it's too hot to walk very far-"

                "Mr. Priest!!" 

                Looking up at the familiar nickname, Nicholas turned and looked past Vash and Meryl to see Millie running up on the other side of the jeep, looking remarkably refreshed for someone who was faced with walking several hundreds of miles in the desert. 

                "Where'd you run off to, Millie? You should tell us before you leave or you'll worry us sick," Meryl said with a relieved smile as the taller woman ran up, looking surprisingly cheerful.

                "Not very far," she began, slightly breathless. "Right over that dune over there, there's a water hole!"

                Clearly, the enormity of this statement went unnoticed by Millie, who smiled pleasantly into the incredulous faces of her companions.

                "I guess there's an underground geoplant running underground nearby, and it just sprung up," she said brightly, her cheerful eyes twinkling in the sunlight.

                "Aha!" Nicholas proclaimed mightily, grinning rakishly. "And there, my dear Vash the Stampede, is where we will find water in the desert!" 

                Vash made it a very important point to glare at Nicholas as the angel opened the car door and began to push the jeep towards where Millie had said the water was. "It was just a stroke of luck! That's all!" he cried as he tromped after them, looking forward to something to drink despite it all. The outlaw did have his pride, after all.

                "Believers will be redeemed in the end, Tongari!" came the good-natured reply. Vash narrowed his eyes and quickly caught up to Wolfwood as they came over the ridge and into the small basin that held the geoplant. 

                "If you were a real angel," Vash began, waving a gloved finger at Wolfwood as they strode down the last slope, "Then you'd have this thing fixed with just a wave of the hand and we'd be on our way!"

                Wolfwood stopped dead in his tracks and reached out, grabbing Vash's hand and yanking him in, glaring at him so closely that their noses were almost touching. "Tell me, Vash…would you rather be stranded out here in the desert…or…would you rather I had left you at the mercy of those demons in May City?"

                Vash cringed slightly at the thought, and as he met those smoldering cobalt eyes, he quickly decided that...maybe being stranded out here in the desert with Nicholas D. Wolfwood wasn't so bad a fate after all…

                "Ah...no…no…" he said finally, blinking for a moment as he tried not to return the grip that Nicholas had his hand in. "I vote for the desert…the desert's nice…"

                A slightly roguish grin settled on Wolfwood's face at Vash's expression, but he didn't relent in his grasp of Vash's hand. He met those viridian eyes for a moment, quirking a raven eyebrow. "Mmhmm…that's what I thought…" 

                "Ahem."

                Slowly, Vash and Wolfwood turned their eyes towards the sound of a female throat clearing, and their eyes fell on the slightly irritated face of Meryl Stryfe, her arms crossed and her foot tapping the ground impatiently.

                "When you two are done gazing into each others' eyes," she remarked tersely, "Would you two kindly let go of each others' hands and get to work fixing this damn thing before we fry?"

                It was more of a command rather than a request, really.

                "But he's the one that blew the radiator out!" Vash began, Wolfwood's eyes completely forgotten. "I really don't see why I should have to help him out!"

                "Oh, don't even start with me, Vash the Stampede!" came the sharp retort as Nicholas slammed the car door shut and turned to face the outlaw vehemently. "If it weren't for me, you'd probably be dead right now, so stop your whining and help me fix this car!"

                "Well, no one ASKED for your help in the first place!"

                "Oh, so you'd rather that I'd left you all to die! Fine!"

                "Don't start putting words in my mouth, Wolfwood-"

                "Excuse me!" Meryl suddenly interjected, storming forward and shoving herself between the two men as she glared at them both venomously. "If you two are QUITE finished, Millie and I would like to get out of the desert any time! For crying out loud, you two act like you're married!"

                "You can really tell that you two like each other!" Millie piped up brightly from the other side of the Jeep. "You can tell by the way you fight! It's kinda cute!"

                "We do not!" came the simultaneous outburst, indignation and embarrassment evident in their voices. Vash's cheeks had gone a very bright shade of red, and Wolfwood simply had the grace to look incensed. They had quickly let go of each other's hands, and, in a quick movement to change the subject, the priest turned back to the jeep and proceeded to finish pushing the vehicle towards the small, rather impromptu oasis. Vash crossed his arms and made it a point to not look in the angel's direction, face still flushing in discomfiture, as he trudged down the slope of the basin, following the tire tracks. By the time he reached the edge of the water hole, Millie and Meryl were already seated below one of the few trees' shade near the edge of the water, and Wolfwood had discarded his blazer and had rolled his sleeves up to avoid getting grease on it. His head was currently hidden under the hood of the jeep, and he was rummaging around, mumbling irritably to himself. Words such as "lazy bum" and "can't believe he couldn't at least give me a hand" floated up from under the hood, and a twinge of guilt seized Vash's heart.

                "Er…" he said as he stepped up to the jeep, looking a bit ashamed. "Still…want a hand?" he asked, viridian eyes apologetic. There was silence for a moment, as though Nicholas was considering this, and Vash was about to hesitate and ask again when Wolfwood's face appeared from behind the hood, a bit of a smile on his face.

                "Yeah," he remarked, his face slightly smeared with grime. "Fill your canteen up with water and bring it back over here," he said, and sighed before going back to his work. Slightly surprised by Wolfwood's smile and lack of a grudge, Vash pulled his canteen out of his coat and walked over to the water, kneeling and filling it carefully. He peered down at his reflection for a moment, regarding the several healing scratches on his face that had been inflicted by the demons, and looked over his shoulder at Wolfwood, who was bent over the jeep and has his back facing the outlaw. Vash took a breath; a part of him still could barely believe that Nicholas D. Wolfwood was here with him once again…a traveling partner once more…

                Remembering himself, he shook himself out of his rhapsodizing and stood, carefully making sure that the water didn't spill as he strode back over to where the priest was still working on the radiator. "Here's the water," he offered, but Wolfwood waved a hand at him dismissively.

                "Just hold it right now, Vash," he said, his voice slightly muffled. "I've gotta get the tubes reconnected and stuff or the water'll just leak right back out again," he finished, and dipped his arm deeper into the oily, greasy mess, eyebrows furrowed.

                Peering in over Wolfwood's head at the jumble of piping and tubing, Vash frowned and tilted his head to the side. "Are you sure that the radiator's water container didn't just get a rip in it from a rock instead of the tubes coming loose?" he asked.

                "Wha-" Nicholas began, and brought his head up quickly. There was a sounding smack as the back of the priest's head came into swift, painful contact with Vash's forehead, and the outlaw yelped, pulling his head back quickly and narrowly missing the underside of the hood. Wolfwood cursed and brought a hand to the back his head, rubbing it painfully, and looked up at Vash, who had bent over slightly, a gloved hand covering his eyes and forehead.

                "Ow! Damn…you've got a hard head!"

                "I'm sorry…" Wolfwood said apologetically, wincing slightly as his fingers moved over the sensitive bump. "You alright?"

                "I'm fine…" Vash muttered, and sighed, lowering his head. Blinking slightly, he shook his head and cringed a bit before pointing at the radiator. "What I said was that are you sure that the radiator itself isn't just torn and that it's not the tubes?"

                Nicholas frowned for a moment at Vash's assertion, and peered back down into the car intently for a moment. He moved aside a few tubes, and suddenly, his eyebrows rose in surprise. "Well, I'll be damned," he muttered, and sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Well, unless you three have any bright ideas or a spare radiator and a toolbox handy, we're screwed," he remarked, leaning against the bumper dejectedly.

                "What?!" Millie and Meryl responded in union, looking up at the slightly grungy priest in shock. 

                "Isn't there anything you can do?" Millie asked, and Wolfwood looked up at her for a moment before closing his eyes with a sigh. 

                "Yeah…there's one thing I can do," he replied, and extended a hand towards Meryl. "Let me borrow a Derringer," he asked blandly. Slightly bemused, Meryl reached into her cloak and pulled out one of the tiny pistols, setting it into his hands. Nodding a thank you, Wolfwood turned back to the jeep, raised the pistol, and with a very precise aim, shot the radiator with a resounding pop. All near him jumped a bit at the rather spontaneous action, and as he returned the Derringer to its owner, Meryl gave him a Look.

                "And just what was that supposed to accomplish?"

                "Absolutely nothing, but it made me feel better," he remarked, and slammed the hood down bitterly before plopping himself atop the front of the car, leaning forward and lighting up another cigarette. Vash looked at his canteen of water, still full and unused, and smiled faintly. Taking a step up to the edge of the car, he sat up beside the priest and sidled up next to him, drawing his knees up, and turned his head slightly as he offered the canteen to Wolfwood. 

                "Thirsty?"

                Looking at the canteen briefly before raising his cobalt eyes and meeting Vash's kindhearted gaze, Wolfwood gave the outlaw a gentle look. Pulling the cigarette from his lips, he reached over and took the canteen, smiling warmly. 

                "Thanks, Vash," he said, and brought the neck to his lips, tilting it back a little and taking a long draught of the slightly cooled water. He was careful not to drink too much; after all, Vash probably needed it more than he did. Sighing in a sated manner, he lowered the container from his lips and smiled, running his tongue quickly over his lips to catch any remaining drops. He smiled as he handed it back to the outlaw, letting his eyes linger on the many scratches that marked Vash's face, and sighed faintly.

                Vash reclaimed the canteen pleasantly and tilted it back, chugging the water as if there were no tomorrow, and sighed happily, a bit of water trickling down from the corner of his lips as he finished. "Aaah! That hit the spot-"

                His refreshed comment was cut off as he felt a gentle hand grace a few of the fresh cuts on his cheekbone, and jumped as he turned and saw that Nicholas was looking at the scratches with a gentle, inquisitive gaze. Vash felt his cheeks flush as he felt those light fingertips run the length of one of the longer gashes, and quickly averted his eyes, forcing his pulse to stop racing. 

                "Those don't look near as bad in the sunlight…" Wolfwood said gently, furrowing his brow somewhat as he withdrew his hand. He sighed and shook his head, looking a bit embarrassed. "I'm sorry I couldn't heal those though…I can heal disease and smite demons, but that's about it…"

                A little taken aback by the sudden attention from the angel, Vash looked down pointedly at his canteen and shrugged. "It's alright…you got us away from those demons…I don't know if we'd have been able to get out of there without you."

                Wolfwood's radiant eyes lit up a bit at the comment, and put a hand warmly on Vash's shoulder. "Hey…I'm glad I could help…I'm glad I'm here…again…" he said, and trailed off, turning his gaze to the two girls. Millie, who seemed to have been watching them rather attentively, waved cheerfully at the priest, and, Wolfwood noticed with a raised eyebrow, she seemed to be blushing faintly and glancing at Vash and himself knowingly. Meryl was holding a canteen similar to Vash's, and was dozing vaguely under the shade of the tree. He noticed with a slight frown that she seemed to be a bit paler than usual…

                "Meryl?" he asked, standing and leaving Vash to his own devices for the moment. He walked over to the pair of girls. He squatted down next to them, and gently shook Meryl, who awoke rather easily. She looked up at the concerned angel and frowned sleepily. 

                "Is something wrong, Mr. Wolfwood?" she asked, reaching up and rubbing her eyes gently. She stopped, however, when he put a hand to her forehead, brushing her ebony hair from her face lightly. He frowned, and leaned back, looking at her intensely.

                "Are you feeling alright?" he asked, worry and unease playing his eyes. Vash had joined them by now, and had knelt beside Nicholas as well, watching the both of them carefully.

                "Yes…" she said slowly, raising an eyebrow warily at the two men. "I'm just a bit tired that's all. We have been sitting out here in the sun all day, and with your driving, I'm amazed we got any sleep at all," she said disapprovingly. 

                Nicholas rolled his eyes slightly and stood, shaking his head with a wry smile.

                "Alright, you pass inspection. You're healthy enough to gripe at me, so you must be okay!" he replied with a grin, and chuckled. He looked out over the horizon, which was steadily growing a dark shade of indigo, and gestured for the jeep. "We'll sleep in the jeep tonight, and tomorrow we'll set off walking. It shouldn't be too far to the nearest town."

~*~

                "So…"

                "Master…our scouts have just reported in from May…they spoke of an angel matching the description of Nicholas D. Wolfwood helping Vash the Stampede out of May…"

                Knives turned slowly and regarded his three generals, smiling coldly at their familiar faces as he heard this news.  His icy eyes gleamed calculatingly, and after a moment, he chuckled darkly.

                "So…Nicholas D. Wolfwood has returned…we should give him a proper reception, don't you think?" he asked with the quirk of his lips. "The three of you…go…follow my brother and Wolfwood…we don't want them thinking that we've forgotten about them, after all." He smiled darkly, and turned his back to the three men brought back from the depths of the Abyss to serve him once more.

                "Get rid of the angel and the girls…but leave my brother to find me…I'll be the one to do the teaching this time, Vash…"

~*~

Phew! So, that was Chapter Four. A lot longer and fluffier than I expected! I had this one all planned out. It was going to be the short "filler" chapter, but it took on a life of its own! And yes, Meryl's paleness is foreshadowing.

AHH The VxW implications! It made me happy…but you'd better enjoy it. This is as fluffy as it gets. There will be romance, of course, but it'll be more of the dramatic and sad sort. 

Chapter Five is going to be longer than this one, and Chapter Six will be even longer, so…don't expect them out as quickly as this one! Again, thanks for the reviews! ^___^


	6. Chapter Five: The First Of Two

**~*Chapter Five – The First Of Two*~**

                "You never cease to amaze me, Vash…with all the pain you've gone through in your life, and still you manage to smile…you're a far better person than I ever was…"

                Silently, the sun began to rise over the edge of the desert, casting a warm, purplish glow over the rugged terrain. Faint fingers of dawn stretched out over the rocky dunes, highlighting the world in a warm golden glow, and yet, the magnificent light seemed to pale in comparison to the faint, unobtrusive glow that seemed to radiate innately from Nicholas D. Wolfwood's own body. He watched the sunrise quietly, his cobalt eyes seemingly distant, and yet, somehow focused. He glanced quietly over to his shoulder, where, sometime in his slumber, Vash had slumped to his left and let his head fall comfortably on the angel's shoulder. 

                Nicholas hadn't moved since, content to let the slight weight remain. 

                The outlaw was smiling faintly in his sleep, which was surprisingly untainted with nightmares, and his blond hair was drooping slightly from a mixture of sleep, sweat, and the elements. It hung slightly on the side of his face, framing his young face gently, and long lashes graced the top of his cheeks, bright green eyes closed in quiet rest. 

                Shaking his head slightly, Wolfwood frowned a bit and reached over, brushing a few strands of flaxen hair from Vash's face, letting a few fingers touch the scratches lightly. He was careful not to wake him, for fear of being caught in a rather vulnerable position, and lowered his hand again, sighing.

                "…I wouldn't have had the power to sate myself with just wounding Knives…I would have killed him…killed him for all the torment he and the Guns put you through….for all the torment I put you through…" he said quietly, bowing his head slightly. "But…I did promise, didn't I? I promised you not to kill another person after that day…" He paused and smiled sadly. "And I've kept my word…I really didn't have much choice, did I?"

                The priest watched Vash slumber for a bit longer, his chest moving slightly beneath that crimson coat, and leaned his head forward slightly, smiling a bit fondly. Such a multi-faceted man Vash the Stampede was…ever compassionate, ever gentle, even in the face of the most extreme adversity…

                "And yet, I'm the cynical one," he said wryly, and sighed deeply as the desert wind brushed through his hair once more, slightly gritty and cool. "But I'm glad…I'm glad I've gotten at least a hint of another chance here…with you…"

                "Wolfwood...who are you talking to?" came a sleepy voice to his right, which caused the priest's shoulders to go rigid. Slowly, Vash raised his head and yawned tiredly, rubbing a gloved hand over his eyes lightly, frowning a bit. 

                "Oh…no one, Vash…" he said hesitantly, and quickly averted his eyes, thankful that the dim light shaded his slightly flushed cheeks from view. "Just myself…" Wolfwood fidgeted slightly, clearly nervous and slightly embarrassed at being caught in a sentimental moment such as that.

                "It didn't sound like you were talking to yourself," Vash replied, pushing some hair from his face slightly. "Who are you glad to have another chance with?" Gently, he reached out and put a reassuring hand on the priest's shoulder, bringing that apprehensive gaze back to his own. He smiled kindly, the sunrise reflecting softly in those viridian depths. Wolfwood turned and slowly looked upon that kind face, his lips parted slightly as if to speak. He found himself surprised to find a trace of hope on the outlaw's handsome face, and swallowed slightly, looking at Vash searchingly. 

                "I…"

                But he was silenced as Vash raised a hand and put a gloved finger to his parted lips, smiling gently. He let the finger remain there for a moment, letting the silence wash over them, and as he moved the digit, the outlaw bit his lower lip hesitantly for but a second before he began to lean forward, a bit of bashfulness in his eyes.

                "I missed you, Nick…"

                Nicholas inhaled slightly as he watched the outlaw's slight movements, marveling momentarily at the way the adventing light seemed to grace the perfect curves and contour of Vash's face, shading against his eyes and yet dancing hopefully in those expressive depths…He couldn't remember the last time he'd witnessed such a perfect sunrise as the one he was witnessing now…

                "Oh! Mr. Priest! Mr. Vash!" came a sudden voice from the back seat, and both Wolfwood and Vash jumped out of their rhapsodic haze as Millie held up a grubby cardboard box with duct tape and various writings all over it. She appeared to be oblivious to the scene she had interrupted, and Vash quickly pulled away from Wolfwood, turning his eyes towards the desert nervously, while Wolfwood cleared his throat apprehensively and turned his eyes to look at Millie.

                "Ah…err…what have you got there, Millie?" he asked, his voice slightly gruff. He peered at the box carefully, giving his eyes something to occupy themselves with besides Vash. But even the box and its mysterious contents couldn't pull his mind away from the moment, and what might have transpired if Millie had only waited a bit longer before…she…

                "Millie, does that…say…"

                "It's a brand new radiator! I guess the last person who owned this jeep knew it needed a new one, so they must have bought a new one and never installed it!"

                "Ahh…the Good Lord provideth…"

                Vash suddenly whirled around in his seat and stared at the grungy little box as though it had bitten him. 

                "What?! You mean we had a new one the whole time and we've just been sitting here for no reason?!"

                "It would seem that way, Tongari," Nicholas commented with a sigh, and took the box in his hand. "Come on…give me a hand," he remarked, and got out of the jeep with a sigh. Vash looked a bit disgruntled, but brightened somewhat at the prospect of aiding Wolfwood, and followed suit. As Wolfwood closed the door, he looked back at Millie and Meryl, who were cradled in the backseat alongside the Cross Punisher and the stun gun, and smiled. "Wake Meryl up a bit later. She'll be thrilled to know that we've got a new radiator," he remarked, and went around to the front of the jeep, where the outlaw had already popped the hood and was peering at the mess of dusty, greasy tubes and piping in slight dismay.

                "How long is this going to take, anyway?" he asked as Wolfwood meandered up and peered down at it as well. "I mean, we don't want to be stuck out here for another day; we're already like sitting ducks as it is!"

                "Depends," Wolfwood said as he opened the box and pulled out the spare part. It had all the attachments and required pieces…and lack of a gunshot hole…"You wouldn't happen to have a screwdriver or anything, would you?"

                Vash looked a bit bewildered. "Well…um…I don't think so…why?"

                There was a long pause during which Wolfwood stared at the radiator in his hands fixedly, debating on what he should say, and finally, he slowly raised his head and peered at Vash, who still looked bemused.

                "Well, that settles that then," he said with a sigh as he handed Vash the box, and proceeded to unbutton and remove his blazer once more. He tossed it over the top of the hood and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, and gave a cursory glance into the pipe maze before sticking his hands into the mess once more.

                "Wait, settles what?" Vash asked, slightly irritated at Wolfwood's word games. "You're not making any sense."

                "I mean to say, Vash, that this is going to take a while. Now would you please stop chattering and give me a hand with trying to disconnect this damn thing?" came the muffled reply, and the priest turned his head to peer irritatedly up at the outlaw. Vash frowned at him, the grimy box still in his hands.

                "Would it hurt you to say please once in a while?" he asked, sounding slightly incensed. 

                "Don't start with me this morning, Vash," Wolfwood said as the old radiator came dislodged with a dull popping sound. The priest stood and waved it at Vash a bit, covered up to the elbows in grease. "You haven't helped much at all since we got here-"

                "Don't even start trying to guilt trip me again!"

                Clearly, the moments shared only a bit before had been completely forgotten as the two of them diminished into squabbling again, though they somehow managed to begin putting in the new radiator in between their word-flinging. The arguments had diminished into the most random of things by now, no longer having relevance to any issue other than the simple wish to disagree.

                "Looks like they're at it again, Senpai!" Millie said cheerfully as she listened to the latest argument – something about the sort of glaze used on glazed donuts – and turned to Meryl with a smile. She frowned slightly, however, as Meryl failed to answer her, and looked at her carefully. "Senpai?"

                "No, I think they use a type of syrup, not just sugar and water! It tastes too unique to be just sugar and water!"

                "Right, Vash, and since you're the donut connoisseur, your word is supreme and infallible…"

                "Mr. Priest! Mr. Vash!"

                Vash stopped in mid-retort as he heard Millie's horrified outburst, and both men peered over the side of the hood at the girls. Millie was shaking her superior frantically, trying to wake her up. 

                "She won't wake up! She's really pale and sweating!" she cried, looking close to tears. "She's breathing really heavily…"

                "What?!" Vash cried as Wolfwood darted away from the front of the car and over to Meryl's side, and he quickly followed in suit, having dropped the old radiator in the sand. He watched as Nicholas washed his hands off quickly with some water, and frowned, gently pushing Millie aside.   
                "Let me see her," he said quickly, and furrowed his brow as he put his cleansed hands against Meryl's forehead. Her skin was hot to the touch, but it was an internal heat, definitely a fever of some sort. Frowning a bit, he sighed and kept his hand to her forehead, closing his eyes slightly. 

                Vash blinked worriedly as he watched Nicholas begin to murmur some sort of brief prayer, and looked at Millie, who was already in tears. Meryl didn't seem to be awakening, despite what the angel appeared to be attempting to do.

                "What are you doing?" he asked after Wolfwood opened his eyes, finished with his prayer. The angel didn't answer him for a moment, his eyes still focused on Meryl's prone form.

                "As the Hand of God…I've been granted the powers to heal the sick and smite these demons…I'm trying to heal her…" he said softly, but his frown increased as the moments passed. "But it's not working…why…why isn't it working…" he said, gritting his teeth a bit.

                "What do you mean, it's not working?" Millie asked tearfully, tugging on Wolfwood's shoulder a bit. Wolfwood bit his lip, looking very confused and increasingly frantic.

                "That's just it…she's not getting any better!" he said, sounding a bit panicked. He slowly withdrew his hand, looking at his palms in confusion as Vash put his own gloved hand against Meryl's forehead, and narrowed his eyes in mystification.

                "But why?" he asked rhetorically, and Nicholas shook his head.

                "Vash, it might be too late for this…but take Millie away from here…away from Meryl. We can't move with her like this, and if this is what I think it is…" he sighed in exasperation, trailing off. 

                After Vash took Millie to the other side of the geoplant, Wolfwood continued to lay on hands, trying desperately to heal her illness, but to his increasing bewilderment, she continued to only deteriorate. Her fever rose, bringing a sickly pinkish tint to her cheeks that contrasted heavily with the pallid hue of the rest of her face, and her dark hair clung to her face from the copious amounts of sweat that shone on her forehead. Nicholas gritted his teeth as he kept trying to save her, slowly feeling more and more helpless. Why…

                _Why wasn't she getting better???_

                As night fell upon the desert and the wind grew cooler, Millie sat beside Vash, watching Wolfwood's valiant but futile efforts to try and aid her best friend. Her tears had long ago dried out, and she had fell terribly silent, content to sit with her knees drawn up and chin resting upon them forlornly. Vash put an arm comfortingly around her, letting her lean against him, but didn't try to coax her into speaking. He had a feeling that it wouldn't be the best of ideas. He looked up, however, as he heard the faint crunching of sand under feet, and saw Wolfwood walking towards them, hands in his pockets. His faintly illuminated face was grim, and the light behind his eyes was a bit subdued. He looked as though he'd been utterly defeated, and couldn't explain how it was that his enemies had deceived him.

                "Wolfwood…" Vash began, causing Millie to look up gently into the priest's face, but before Vash could continue, Wolfwood raised in his hand gently to silence him and sighed.

                "She doesn't…have much time left," he said, sounding pained. "She wants to talk to you, Millie…" he said softly, and bowed his head slightly as the taller woman gasped tearfully, stood and hurried over to her best friend's side. After she passed him by, the priest stepped over to where Vash sat and took a seat, looking slightly confused and almost wounded.

                "So…she's really…going…to die?" Vash asked, biting his lower lip. He already knew the answer to that question…he could read it all over Wolfwood's face; in his posture…The angel gave a heavy sigh and looked up at the many moons that dotted the desert sky, knitting his brow slightly.

                "I don't understand, Vash…" he said finally, bringing a hand up to run through his raven hair. "I tried everything I could think of…and nothing worked. Why?" he asked softly, rhetorically, as he pulled out a crumpled cigarette and lit it, clearly needing something to distract his mind. 

                Both men looked up, however, as they heard a soft sob emanate from the jeep, and Nicholas closed his eyes. Vash inhaled slightly as he watched the angel put out his half-finished cigarette and stand, shoving his hands back into his pockets, and watched him carefully for a moment before he followed in suit. Tears began to form at the edge of his brilliant eyes as he met Wolfwood's painfully confused, mournful gaze; he understood what had happened. 

                "Come on, Vash…Millie needs us," the angel said softly, and began to walk over to the jeep slowly, head bowed silently as though in prayer. Vash followed softly behind him, and closed his eyes. 

                Would there be no end to this needless death and destruction?

~*~

Author's Notes:

Yes yes! I'm sorry! I killed Meryl…I wasn't going to kill any of the girls initially, but after I devised the fic, I realized that they're just as human as the rest of the general populace, and therefore were susceptible to the disease too. And I wanted to write this realistically…well, as realistic as you can get when dealing with angels, demons, and plant people. Y'know. 

Please don't flame me!

Oh Lord…I'm going to REALLY get flamed next chapter…but maybe the yaoi will make up for that…

Maybe…


	7. Chapter Six: The Final Stroke

**~*Chapter Six – The Final Stroke*~**

                The desert sand stretched out endlessly as the small jeep sped along the dunes, dust kicking up the miles behind them. The binary suns hung overhead, bearing down upon the travelers mercilessly; it was going to be another long day on the road. They had left the geoplant that morning after sending Meryl's spirit up above with their prayers, their quartet now down to three. It had been a simple, somber moment as they laid the young woman to rest with Heaven's grace, forever asleep under the geoplant's green tress. 

                Millie sat in the back, weeping silently and staring off into the endless distance as nothing but sand and rock pillars passed by along the horizon, the gritty wind cooling the tears that streamed her face. She hadn't spoken since they had left, silent in her mourning for her dearest friend. Vash sat in the front passenger seat, head bowed and his expression thoughtful. His golden-tinted glasses obscured his viridian eyes from view, and his forehead was resting somberly in his gloved hand, but the line of dusty tears betrayed his serious expression. Wolfwood was driving, his cobalt eyes hidden behind completely opaque sunglasses and fixed upon the horizon ahead of them. No sound but the wind whistling past them and the revving of the newly repaired vehicle filled their ears; they were utterly alone along this stretch of fathomless desolation.

                "I…I don't understand…" Vash said finally, looking up at Wolfwood with a pained gaze. The priest said nothing as Vash spoke, but cast his eyes to the side and glanced at the gunslinger from behind his glasses. Knowing that he had the angel's attention, Vash continued. "How could she have gotten the disease so quickly? We were only in May…for maybe an hour…we didn't have any contact…with any human-"

                "Just because humans have died from it doesn't mean that humans are what spread it," Wolfwood interjected, his voice soft and slightly gruff. "It could be spread through the air…through the water…I don't understand it either, Vash…" he finished looking rather troubled. 

                Vash sat there for a long moment, surveying Wolfwood's solemn face silently in contemplation, blond strands waving about his face fiercely as the wind cast them aside. He sighed after a bit and sat back against his seat, looking equally uneasy. 

                "It just seems so…"

                A sudden, loud screech from ahead pierced the otherwise silent desert, and all three in the car forgot their woes for the moment as they saw the crimson hellspawn fly at them from over the dune, making a beeline for the vehicle. 

                "Holy shit!" Wolfwood suddenly cursed, and wrenched the steering wheel to one side, causing the jeep to veer wildly off to one side. Both his passengers and his large Cross leaned precariously and sharply in the opposite direction as they narrowly avoided the demon, but the creature was not so easily thrown off. Nor was he alone.

As the jeep vaulted over the sand with a loud, dangerous clanging sound, a rather large city appeared out of the desert, and a large contingent of the hellish creatures were flying out from the outskirts, directly at them.  
                "It's Inepriel!" Vash cried, his teeth chattering painfully as the jeep hit every bump in the rocky terrain. After all his seatbelt still wasn't working, so he was simply holding onto whatever he could find, which was a combination of the door on his right side and Wolfwood's arm on his left. "It looks like the plant is still working! But…the demons! Surely they couldn't have ended up like May-"

But Wolfwood's grim expression confirmed his fears, and Vash gritted his teeth. No…not another town…

A sudden scream of terror from behind caused both Vash and Wolfwood to jump, but Vash was the only one able to turn, and he saw with horror that the demons were bearing down upon Millie, who was swinging her mighty stun gun at the creatures, but seemed to be failing. Her face was pale and though she was fighting valiantly, she seemed to be struggling.

"Millie!" Vash cried, and forgetting the danger of being flung from the vehicle in Wolfwood's erratic driving, he stood, one foot in the seat, pulled out his blessed revolver and fired several rounds at the pair of demons that had swooped down upon his friend. They screeched in pain as the sanctified bullets pierced their skin and released Millie from their damned talons, clearly wounded. Several scratches ran along her fair face, and she was sweating, looking ill and terrified. Her light blue eyes were dulled slightly, and several small bloodstains decorated her khaki overcoat.

"Is she alright?" came Wolfwood's shout, muffled by the wind, as they launched over the last dune before they hit the outskirts of Inepriel.

"I don't know! She looks ill! Just like-"

Vash felt a sudden cold dread hit him as he realized the likeness of Millie's pallid face…the sweat upon her brow…

Meryl…just like Meryl…

"No!" Vash cried, but before he could cry out further, Wolfwood shouted back again.

"Here they come! Ward them off, Vash! Make sure they don't get her!"

Sure enough, just as Wolfwood had said, a new onslaught of the creatures bore down upon them, but despite the fact that Vash was the one wounding them, they only seemed interested in Millie, who was by now too injured and ill to put up much of a fight. Grimacing, Vash reloaded his revolver quickly and took another six shots, which deterred a few, but still on they came, an endless supply set on attaining Millie for their own.

"Oh, for Heaven's sake! Vash!" Wolfwood shouted, and suddenly pulled him down into the seat, looking at him firmly.  "You can't do anything more against them! We need more than one gun to get them off our tails! Take the wheel!" he said, and pulled Vash over into his seat as he climbed up and over him into the passenger seat. The wind whipped past them both as they struggled with the difficult movement, and as Vash finally got himself into the driver's seat and got the vehicle under control, Wolfwood was standing in the seat much like how Vash had previously been.

"Mr. Wolfwood…" Millie questioned vaguely as she looked up at the priest weakly. Wolfwood looked down at her with deep compassion and worry.

                "It'll be alright, Millie! I'll take care of them!"

                "What the Hell are you doing?!" Vash shouted, but Wolfwood didn't look at him as he glared angrily at the demons, his eyes flashing dangerously. 

"Get to a church! I'll meet you there!" he shouted in return, and before Vash could reply, there was sudden rustling sound and a flurry of ivory feathers to Vash's right, and Wolfwood was no longer standing there. Vash gasped slightly as he realized what had happened, and swerved dangerously as he went to avoid the first few buildings of the town. 

His horrified viridian eyes fell upon the mangled bodies that littered the streets, dragged out of their homes and places of businesses by these vile creatures, and the stench was unbearable, just as in May. Men, woman, children…all lifeless, victims to this epidemic that had mysteriously came out of the desert…it had taken Meryl…and was now hoping to claim Millie as well.

                "No!" Vash said firmly as he cut down a narrow alley, ignoring the horrible screeching that was slowly growing closer. As he erupted out into another main street, a small building with a humble stone cross perched upon its steeple loomed at the intersection of two other streets, and Vash turned wildly towards it. "The church!" he gasped, and took a few moments to look over his shoulder at Millie. She was still conscious, but barely, and her cheeks were flushed with fever. 

                "Mr. Vash…hurry…" she murmured weakly, which only spurred Vash on further. As he came to a jerking halt at the doors to the church, the outlaw leapt out of the car without even opening the door, and quickly gathered Millie into his arms before bolting through the small wooden doors and into the inner sanctum. 

                It was a small room, with about five pews lining each wall. A small stone altar sat at the very end, covered in slightly tarnished emblems of the faith, a chalice and a cross, and in the seat behind the pulpit was the body of a man dressed in clerical garments, holding an open bible in his wasted hands, his head bowed as though his prayer. Closing his eyes slightly, Vash found a pew near the middle and laid Millie out gently upon the stone seats, and put a gloved hand to her forehead. Even through the thomas hide he could feel a fever raging in her blood, and he knelt beside her, taking her hand and brushing a few brown strands out of her scratched face.

                "Wolfwood'll be here soon, Millie…and he'll make you better…" he said with what he hoped was a hopeful smile, but this hope was frail…Wolfwood had the power of God on his side…and yet he had been unable to heal Meryl….just what kind of horrendous disease was this that could resist even the power of the Almighty?

                For a long time, there was no sound but Millie's heavy breathing, giving a lonesome, eerie feel to the entire place. The stench of death permeated even through these thick stone walls, slowly sapping away at Vash's hope and resolve, and Millie's as well.

                "I promise…Wolfwood'll be here soon…" Vash reiterated, trying to convince himself that the angel had not fallen as well to the vile things.

                Suddenly, the wooden doors burst open, and a figure stumbled in, slamming the doors behind him. Vash looked up as the sound echoed through the room, and inhaled slightly as the amazing and yet tragic sight met his eyes. 

                Wolfwood was trudging down the aisle towards them quickly, covered in blood. It stained his white collar and was smeared across his face, giving the look of some sort of morbid war paint. His face was pale and firm, slightly angered. But it was not just the blood itself that made the sight so tragic…it was the wound from which the blood was slowly seeping.

                A pair of elegant ivory wings were tucked against the angel's back, the snow-white feathers contrasting heavily with the crimson blood that smeared against them. One of the wings was hanging at a slightly odd angle, and several feathers were bent and broken, also covered in blood. The angel's face was tainted with pain, which he grittily frowned away, and as he stepped up to where Vash was kneeling, the outlaw moved away, slightly in saddened awe of the heavenly sight before him.

                "Nicholas…" Vash said softly as the angel knelt and put a hand on Millie's face. "You're bleeding…" he breathed, and reached out a trembling hand to touch the wounded wing.

                "No…leave it be…I'm fine…" Wolfwood said grittily, pulling away from Vash's hand. He knew the outlaw meant well, but it hurt horribly despite himself. "It's broken, but it'll heal…Vash…go get Millie some water…and I'll see what I can do," he said, clearly hiding the agony that his wounds were putting him through. Vash could see it in those cobalt eyes; the only place where Wolfwood's mask could not conceal. Swallowing slightly, he nodded and stood, and hurried off into the rest of the church to seek out some water and something to carry it in.

                Wolfwood watched Vash hurry away, his red coattails flapping as he ran, and after a moment, turned back to face Millie, who was looking up at him with a slightly awed expression. Her dulled blue eyes were smiling innocently up at him, as though finally understanding what it was that he had meant when he had stated that he was an angel.

                "Wow…you really are an angel, Mr. Wolfwood…" he said softly, coughing faintly. Wolfwood's eyes saddened as he watched her cough violently, and gently put a hand on her shoulder, steadying her. 

                "Shh…shh…I'm going to try to heal you," he said, trying to smile bravely, and as he put a hand on her forehead and bowed his head in prayer, he murmured two mantras to his Lord above…for his blessing and that this might work…

                His hand filled with warmth, just as it had when he had attempted to heal Meryl many times, and passed through him into her, but the energy that he was expending was causing him great pain due to his wounds. He gritted his teeth against the pain as he put all he could into trying to heal her of this grievous illness.

                As he withdrew his hand, what he saw confirmed his suspicions, and his heart sank with growing panic and dread…It wasn't working…

                "Millie…I'm going to try again…" he said, his own face paling, but Millie could see that he was faltering himself; even angels can feel pain and weariness, it seemed…Gently, she shook her head and put a hand to his, smiling.                

                "Don't push yourself, Mr. Priest…" she said softly, breathing shudderingly. "I'm not afraid of dying…My big brother always told me not to be afraid of things you don't know…and if there really is a Heaven…like where you came from…then I have nothing to be afraid of," she said with a faint smile. She took a deep breath, sighing and coughing alternately, and frowned for a moment, as though gathering her words for something important that she had to say.

                "Millie…" Wolfwood began, but she shook her head, silencing him softly.

                "I'm glad you came back…I was worried about you, you know…you seemed so lost…like you once knew the path, but had lost your way a long time ago…I was worried that you wouldn't be able to find your way back to us…but you did…and I'm glad…" she murmured, taking another breath. She closed her eyes for a moment, a tear slipping down her cheek. "He was so sad after you died…he just…it was like a part of him had died with you…he became a whole other person…but when you came back…so did his smile…that part of him that only you could reach returned to us…Mr. Wolfwood…take care of Mr. Vash…even though he doesn't show it…he loves you very much…" she finished with a tired smile, and closed her eyes once more.

                Wolfwood sat there for a very long moment, looking at her as her face paled and her chest stilled, and yet her lips still held a soft, pleasant smile. Slowly, Wolfwood closed his eyes and bowed his head, tears finding their way to his eyes. Just like that…she too, was gone…her life snuffed out like a candle…and there had been nothing…Nothing…that he could do about it…

                Vash had hurried back to the sanctuary once he had found water, but as he came upon the scene before him, large bottle in hand, he slowed, and looked silently upon Millie and Wolfwood. Millie's eyes were closed…she looked peaceful, as if in sleep…but he could tell by Wolfwood's posture that the sleep she slept was eternal.

                "Wolfwood…"

                "Come on, Vash…we have to go…" he said, standing. He grimaced in pain and closed his eyes, willing his wings to hide themselves away as they had been before, and Vash watched in saddened awe as the bloody feathers and ripped wings vanished from view, leaving Wolfwood's back unscathed. Slowly, the priest turned to face Vash, his face firm, but eyes rimmed with tears that he was forcing away. "We can't let anymore die from this…we have to stop this…for them…" he murmured, and began to walk towards the door.

                Vash looked up at Nicholas as tears began to fall once more down his face, and as he passed, he couldn't bear to look at the lifeless form of the formerly vigorous young woman who lay there. As he stepped outside, he watched Wolfwood get back into the driver's seat of the jeep with much effort, as though he was both physically and mentally wounded. Vash closed his eyes and joined him in the passenger seat, and sighed as the jeep roared to life and they drove, headed for the outskirts. 

                "Why aren't the demons…"

                "They have no need to hunt down someone who's dead and someone who isn't human, Vash…they'll leave us be now…"

~*~

                After the day had waned into the evening, Nicholas had pulled the jeep over near an outcropping of rocks, where he and Vash made camp for the night. The angel was still wounded, though the wound was no longer visible, and both needed time to think without the roar of the engine around them. The suns had set long ago, and a fire was crackling now, casting dancing light across the campsite. Vash had taken up a seat against a rock, his knees drawn up to his chin. His expression was solemn and sad, his expressive eyes fixed distantly on the fire. Tears streaked down his dusty face, and every once in a while, his shoulders would move with a heavy sigh, but save for that, he moved very little. He didn't understand all this loss…all this senseless, unexplainable death…Why must everyone he'd ever cared for be lost to him to death? Was there no end to the senseless slaughter that followed him? Sighing, he tightened his arms around his knees, not even paying any heed to the other man who stood directly adjacent to where he sat.

                Nicholas stood near the fire, his hands shoved resolutely in his pockets. A crooked, half-burned cigarette hung from his lips, a thin wisp of silvery smoke twisting up through the air, obscuring his eyes slightly from view. He was staring silently into the flickering flames, watching the coals glow above the sand, but despite the steady expression on his face, it was evident that he was struggling internally with some untamable demon…something that he could not resolve…

                Suddenly, the priest picked the cigarette from his lips and violently threw it into the flames, making a soft sizzle, and began to pace. He ran his hands angrily through his raven hair, his entire posture that of grief and frustration, and suddenly, he began to shout, causing Vash to jump in surprise.

                "Why?! Damn it, Vash, why couldn't I save them!? Why couldn't I protect them?! I don't understand this!" he shouted as he stared at his hands, which had failed him in saving his dear friends. "Why has God abandoned me?! What have I done to displease him that he would not protect my friends and help me protect them!? Why?!" Tears were falling freely from his eyes now, but he paid them little heed as he continued to rant. "Why couldn't I help them!?"

                Then, just as quickly as he had begun, he stopped, and with a soft whimper, he sank to the ground and drew his knees up, hiding his face in his arms. "…Why couldn't I save them…" he said, his voice muffled from tears and his arms. His shoulders shook as he began to openly weep, his frustration and anger and pain finally breaking away his tough mask. "…I don't know what to do anymore…"

                He'd been sitting there in his mourning for a long moment when, gently, a pair of arms wrapped around his shoulders and drew him into their comforting embrace. An embrace that smelled of leather and gunpowder and of many years…

The priest reached up immediately and grasped Vash's sleeve in his hand, pulling himself into that embrace like a child…he needed this embrace…this knowledge that he wasn't alone in this…

He needed Vash…

"I…I don't know…Wolfwood…" came Vash's voice, trembling so badly that the angel could hear the tears in his voice. "I don't know about anything anymore either…sometimes…sometimes I wonder why I even try to live anymore…Ever since I got here…ever since July…I've done nothing but cause people pain and suffering…" His embrace tightened around the priest as he spoke, biting his lower lip as he finished.

"No…no, you haven't…" Nicholas interjected, raising his head slightly to look up at the outlaw with pain and compassion in his eyes. He raised a hand to wipe a few tears from Vash's dusty face, his own fingers trembling slightly as he moved, and he took a deep breath. "You've done so much more good than you realize…"

"People have died because of me!" Vash abruptly shouted, causing the priest's hand to quickly still its gentle movements. The outlaw gritted his teeth as tears continued to fall, too quickly to Wolfwood to try and catch, and he continued, his anger evident, and directed completely at himself. "People I've cared about…they've all died! Everyone….Everyone! They I've ever loved has been taken from me…Rem…Meryl, Millie…" he paused for a moment, closing his eyes as he swallowed thickly. "And you…you're all gone…forever…"

                There was a moment of silence as Vash bowed his head and succumbed to his sorrow, his shoulders trembling as he found his suffering too heavy to bear silently any longer. He leaned his head down against Wolfwood's shoulder, gritting his teeth and silently weeping against his shoulder.

                "No…no, we haven't…" came the soft reply, and Vash slowly raised his head to look at Wolfwood tearfully, swallowing heavily. "You can't always see us…but…we've never left you…" he murmured, and softly smiled, raising a hand to Vash's face. "I…I've never left you…"

                Gently, he ran a thumb over the nearly healed scratches along Vash's face, his own cobalt eyes tearful but smiling gently, and perhaps almost bashfully. Vash's breath stilled for a moment as he felt those hands once again trace along those scratches, and closed his eyes briefly, leaning against his hand tenderly, needing the contact, and smiled. This was the side of Wolfwood kept subdued under opaque glass…the side that none very few ever had the privilege to view. Gone was the gruff, almost careless man that had long been his traveling partner, and, at least for a moment, Vash once again saw the warm kindness, the sheer honesty and compassion that he long ago had seen in the priest despite the brash masquerade he put on. 

                "I know…I know, you haven't…" he murmured, and, for a moment, there was no sound save for that of the fire crackling nearby.  It danced along the faces of the two men, shining along dusty trails of tears long bidden passage, stripping away their last layers of gritty reserve. 

                For a brief moment, Wolfwood found himself without words as he sat there, nestled in the outlaw's consoling embrace, but as he saw the light flicker in Vash's eyes, Millie's words gently came back, nudging him along. 

                _"Even though he doesn't show it…he loves you very much…"_

                Silently, Wolfwood peered into those eyes, looking for a trace of truth in what Millie had said…Was there still a chance for this, even though he knew taboo forbade it? Even in this hellish, disease riddled time, could there still be a chance for he and Vash to have at least some small happiness?

                Was that too much to ask?

                "Nicholas…I-"

                The priest promptly silenced the outlaw, putting a finger to his lips gently. Wolfwood didn't want to hear any more words…actions alone could only properly convey the message that he wanted to send…So gently, his hand still lightly resting against Vash's face, he smiled at the outlaw with a resolve unlike any other he'd given before and began to lean in…he was determined to grant Millie's final wishes…

                Vash sat there for a moment, somewhat stunned as he watched the priest lean in. He closed his eyes partially as their noses brushed, his breath hesitating for a moment, and suddenly, warm, almost tentative lips brushed against his, wordlessly delivering a message that had been delayed for far too long…Vash felt Wolfwood's grip on his coat tighten a bit as he tasted salt tears on the priest's mouth, and gently pulled him tightly in his embrace, an overflow of emotion pouring itself into the kiss that Vash returned. 

                Finally…Nicholas had come home…and for a moment, albeit a brief one, their pain and sorrow were sustained in one small moment of warmth and happiness…both something that they had too long been denied…

                No longer would they be made to carry the weight of their sorrows alone…

~*~

Author's Notes:

Well…It's about time I got those two together, though I just hated killing Millie…but there was no way she could have survived after being constantly exposed to the virus…

The next three chapters are going to be hard for me to write. Not only are they going to be developing the romantic relationship between Vash and Nicholas, but they will be facing Knives' three generals, each in succession of each other…and I'm paranoid about keeping those three in character…so…bear with me!


	8. Chapter Seven: Hell's Musician

**~*Chapter Seven – Hell's Musician*~**

                "Vash…there's something that…you and I need to discuss…"

                Wolfwood sighed slightly as he peered down at his half-empty glass, the scent of cheap whiskey lingering up into his nose. This little bar wasn't much, but it was a nice respite from their several previous days on the road. It had been almost five days since Meryl had left them…almost four days since they'd left the hollow shell that had once been Inepriel behind…four days since the loss of Millie…four days since…since Nicholas had overstepped his boundaries as the Hand of God and remembered just how deeply his love for the outlaw ran. They'd came across this dinky little spot in the road just out of pure luck, and though it only had a bar and a restaurant, it would suffice for a nice break from the long, dusty road.

                As it turned out, the bar wasn't the most kosher of establishments; almost all of the patrons were rather road-weary and lackluster, and while there did indeed have small ensemble of musicians performing soft background music on the stage, there was little more that could be said of the atmosphere past seedy. 

                Vash lowered his own glass from his lips curiously as he heard Wolfwood comment, his brow knitted in worry. Ever since that slight moment beside the fire those few nights ago, he had noticed that Nicholas had been alternately euphoric and saddened, though it was clear that the angel tried to hide his sadness every time the emotion welled upon him. This sudden, almost bipolar like behavior was troubling to Vash…and now, as he and Wolfwood sat in this bar in the far back, he couldn't help but notice that the priest's behavior seemed of the darker, more unhappy sort…and his question was a bit unsettling.

                "…What is it, Nick?" he asked quietly, setting his glass down with a faint tinkle. His viridian eyes gazed upon Nicholas' partially shaded face with faint worry and compassion. The outlaw shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his gloved hand still gripping the glass with faint worry…He understood that the angel was still coping with the confusion of his inability to save the girls…both of them were still pained by the loss…but this was not the same sort of sorrow that passed over Wolfwood's face when he looked up at Vash, his smile faded and worn…He wasn't foolish enough to think that Wolfwood would be able to remain here forever…Vash could tell…by the way that the angel kept staring forlornly into his whiskey, he had a dreadful feeling that perhaps…this impending departure might be the cause of his consternation…

                "I'm…Please don't get me wrong…" Wolfwood said as he noted the unsure look in the gunslinger's eyes. He offered the outlaw a faint smile and reached out, putting his hand gently on Vash's. He was leaning forward in his chair slightly, keeping his back from touching the seat because his broken wing, while no long visible, still ailed him though none could see it, and sighed. "I'm very happy…and lucky that I have you…but…I'm saddened…not for myself…but for you, Vash…" he said quietly, and looked rather downtrodden. "I was sent here to solve this mystery…of these demons…and this disease…and when we've solved it, Vash…I have to leave…and you will be alone…" He trailed off for a moment, looking pained. "And…I hate the thought of that…you've suffered far too much in your life to have to suffer such loss again…" he said, and bowed his head. "But I have no choice…it seems I never have a choice when it comes to you…Ah, damn it," he said sharply, though his voice was still quiet. "I shouldn't have even kissed you…then at least the separation would have been less painful…"

                "Nick…" Vash said quietly, taking up the angel's hand gently, "I'd rather have these few weeks…or even days…in your arms, than to have never kissed you…" 

                Wolfwood looked up quietly as he heard these words, and gave Vash a soft expression, knowing that the outlaw spoke naught but the truth…he could see it in his eyes.

                "…I know…" he whispered slightly, and looked down at the grain of the table slowly as he began to fall back into his thoughts. "So…I suppose we should make the most of the time we've been given…" he said softly, and squeezed Vash's hand gently. As he raised his head to meet his viridian eyes with a mental cobalt kiss, his eyes were suddenly drawn to the shadow of a woman standing over them. Coughing suddenly, both he and Vash moved back from each other, releasing each other's fingers, and slowly, the priest looked up at the barmaid offhandedly.

                "Miss?"                

                If she had taken any notice of the tender moment she had walked in on, she paid it no heed, and primly gestured to the half-empty glass sitting near Wolfwood's elbow.

                "Might I get you some more spirits?" she asked strictly, as though she wasn't quite sure how a waitress might act towards customers. Frowning slightly, thinking that she might be new at this, he shook his head and sighed.

                "No…I'm fine. You can take it," he remarked, trying not to smirk wryly at the inadvertent pun the woman had just made, and watched her as she took his glass and walked back across the commons to the bar, where she handed the glass over to the elderly, rather stuff bartender, who was randomly wiping a glass down with a grimy rag. As the angel's eyes fell upon the various men who littered the ramshackle tables, all dressed rather raggedly, he couldn't help but notice that something seemed to be a bit…off about them. Each one had a tankard of some sort in their hand, all filled with some sort of alcohol…but each tankard seemed to be full…And they all seemed to be subtly glancing in Vash and his general direction…as though they were expecting something…or waiting for something…It wasn't the usual looks he and the outlaw had received when entering a bar before…these were far more calculating…

                "I guess you've noticed it too…haven't you?" came Vash's voice from across the table, and slowly, Wolfwood turned his eyes away from the crowd to peer at the outlaw curiously. Vash looked grim and suspicious. "They've been watching us ever since we walked in the door," he murmured softly so that only Wolfwood might hear. The priest raised his eyebrows a bit as Vash made this assertion, and sat up slightly, leaning away from the outside of the table. He met Vash's wary expression with one of his own, and frowned deeply.

                "Vash…do these people seem a bit…not quite right to you?" he asked carefully, but before Vash had a chance to answer, a soft musical solo began to play through the now quiet bar. It was an eerie, haunting melody…soft, lyrical, and very skilled…and yet so chilling that it sent a prickle up the back of Wolfwood's neck.

                "No…no, it's not possible…" Vash murmured softly as the eerie solo continued, and as Wolfwood turned to look at him, he saw that Vash was staring at him with a rather freaked look on his face. His green eyes were widened slightly, and he was clutching his glass so hard that the container was almost bending under the exertion. "It can't be…I saw him kill himself…I watched him die…right there…" he continued, and kept his eyes focused on Wolfwood's slowly darkening, suspicious face.

                "That's true…but death didn't stop me," the angel murmured quietly, slowly looking up from the table and into Vash's face. "…What makes you think it stopped him?"

                Vash inhaled a little at Wolfwood's assertion, his eyes gleaming with complete unease in the dim, smoky light. He was still for a long moment; him and the priest exchanging words through their eyes, when the song faded into the background and the band ceased their haunting melody. 

                "That was for the two gentlemen in the back," came a smooth, almost silky voice from across the now silent room, and both the priest and the outlaw froze as they heard faint footfalls step down from the stage and across the room over to the bar. Carefully, almost hesitantly, both of them began to turn their heads and look towards the bar, as though fearing what they might see. Their eyes fell upon a man clad all in black standing at the bar, speaking quietly to the tender. After a moment, as the tender went to prepare a pair of drinks, the man stood a bit straighter and tilted his head up a bit, as though in thought.

                "Back from the dead, I see…" the man replied in that same smooth, silky tone, and Wolfwood's eyes narrowed as he began to rise gradually from his seat, a clearly unwelcome look on his face. The tender returned with the two drinks about then, and after accepting them with a nod of his head, the man turned slowly and watched Vash and Wolfwood quietly, a slight smile playing on his handsome face. After a moment, his eyes shifted from the both of them to focus completely on Nicholas, and cordially, he extended a hand, offering the angel one of the drinks.          

                "For old times' sake, Chapel?" Midvalley the Hornfreak asked, a knowing smile alighting on his lips as he watched the suspicious look on the priest's face darken into one of bitter hatred. The musician seemed to be delighting in the unbridled hatred and badly hidden pain in the angel's eyes, because he continued to smile despite it all. He could practically smell the fractured, bloodied wing from here… "And for Vash, of course…I wouldn't dream of leaving him out of our little reunion…"

                Wolfwood's eyes widened slightly at the mention of Vash, and he quickly turned to look at Vash, who was now standing as well, his expression a mixture of horror and suspicion. He remembered Midvalley's last assignment involving Vash…

                "You leave him out of this, Midvalley…" the priest said darkly, and gave him a look full of spite. "Old times…" he scoffed, trying not to wince from the pain radiating up his back. He gave Midvalley a defiant, unwelcome look, and peered at the proffered drink as though it were poison. "I never once trusted a drink from you...don't think I'm about to start now..." The priest narrowed his eyes darkly, and cast a glance over at Vash, who was rising as well, looking alarmed and uneasy at the sight of his foe back from the dead. "Still on Knives' leash?" Wolfwood continued, sounding slightly smug, perhaps at the fact that he no longer held any connection to Vash's brother.

                Midvalley's expression changed very little, though the smile quickly faded as he withdrew the hand that still held the drink, and set it down on the bar, his eyes never leaving Wolfwood's. 

                "I see death hasn't changed you…Chapel," he said slickly, knowing well that the mere utterance of the old nickname sparked anger and defiance in the former Gung-Ho Gun. "You're still the same traitor and deserter I remember…"

                Vash watched the exchange silently; the hatred between the two was so thick that he could practically cut it with a knife, but every time that Midvalley saw fit to refer to Wolfwood as "Chapel", he noticed that the angel's grip on his chair tightened in rage. 

                "You know…this whole talk of desertion and being a traitor…" Wolfwood said grimly, though there was still a smug note about his voice. "You talk of freedom like it's a bad thing…You're nothing but Knives' slave, Midvalley…" he said, a bit of a self-satisfied smile finding its way to his lips. "Little more than a slave…I pity you…really, I do…"

                Midvalley's face didn't change as he heard Wolfwood's cold words; his dark eyes remained fixed on the angel's radiant, defiant face, and faintly, a small smile crept onto his lips as he let a hand fall onto Sylvia's silvery keys. 

                "I wonder, Chapel..." he began, his voice somewhat offhand and casual, but he paused, as though rethinking his words. "…No, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, if that's what you're calling yourself..." He smiled at the rage that boiled up in the priest's eyes, and continued. "I wonder…where you got the impression that I was still working for Knives..."

                Silently, as he watched Vash and Wolfwood's eyes widen slightly in confusion, he raised a hand and snapped his fingers, the faint, somewhat cruel smile still playing casually on his lips. 

                "Nick!" Vash suddenly cried, and as Wolfwood went to turn his head to look at him, the outlaw leapt at him, knocking their table and chairs to the ground with a crash. The couple fell to the floor with a loud thud as one of the patrons leapt at where the priest had just been standing, and the man gave a horrible hiss of anger as his baleful crimson eyes glared at Vash for hindering his efforts. The outlaw's eyes widened as he watched the men, maids, and even the tender's forms began to shift, and he suddenly understood just what had seemed so off about them…

                "They're demons!" came Wolfwood's pained cry as he struggled to get to his feet, but Vash's weight against him coupled with the searing pain that falling to the ground had caused his already woeful wound kept him pinned. "Vash! Get off!" he said as he tried to push the gunslinger away, but after a moment, he didn't need to, as the swarm of hellspawn fell upon them, wrapping their gruesome claws around Vash's arms and yanking him up and away from the angel. 

                Vash pulled back from the creatures as they hauled him painfully to his feet, and stumbled back a bit, his face contorted in rage and disgust. Their grotesque faces sneered at him as their claws seized at his crimson coat, yanking him along, their vile, hellish laughter ringing in his ears. Their talons tore at his flesh through the coat, drawing thin lines of blood along his scarred skin as he tried to pull away, but he gritted his teeth against the slight pain. Why weren't they trying to injure him further?

                The sound of someone crying out in horrific pain behind him caused Vash to pause in his struggle and turn sharply. He could barely make out Wolfwood, who was still partially on the ground, though the vile things were quickly overbearing him. The scent of blood from reopened wounds hit his nostrils as the creatures began to shove Vash towards Midvalley, along with the Cross Punisher, perhaps so that the angel couldn't get to his weapons. Gritting his teeth as he saw Wolfwood almost manage to stand up, but only to be borne down to the ground again, Vash suddenly cried out in rage at the demons and plowed forward, extending his left hand. For a brief moment, there was silence as Vash's hand moved in an impossible way, and the demons that stood before him paused, watching the spectacle of such pure, unbridled rage…There was a moment where Vash's eyes flashed dangerously, and suddenly, the sound of several hundred gunshots filled the room, and the demons separating he and Wolfwood hissed and flew back in pain as the hidden cybernetic arm, previously blessed as well, began to release its own brand of fury. For a brief second, there was nothing but a blur of crimson as the outlaw moved with incredible speed, and the demons drew away, screeching in pain as the divinely imbued bullets ravaged their flesh.

                Back near the bar, Midvalley leaned casually against the surface, one hand still resting against his beloved saxophone, the other holding a drink to his lips as he watched the brawl with mild interest. If all went well, he wouldn't hardly have to raise a finger…the demons would finish off Wolfwood, and Vash would have no where else to go but with him…back to his brother…

                There was a sharp burst of white light from the crowd around the angel about then, which brought Midvalley's eyes directly back to where Wolfwood had fallen. The demons flew back with such force that the support beams holding the roof up cracked and creaked dangerously, and from the bloody heap, the musician watched with faint surprise as Nicholas staggered to his feet, his entire being glowing slightly from the exertion of divine power. Blood trailed down the side of his face, and his entire front was scratched and gashed from cruel talons. His shirt and suit jacket were ripped almost entirely open, bloodied and torn, but as he stood, he fixed Midvalley with a determined, spiteful look and reached into his jacket. Midvalley went to stand a bit as he watched the angel pull out his Remington automatic, and paused as the pistol was aimed.

                Vash ceased in his bloody, enraged rampage as a sounding, single gunshot rang through the bar, silencing all the occupants. Panting breathlessly, Vash watched Nicholas as he stood there, his pistol smoking slightly, and as a defiant, knowing smile curved up onto his lips. The angel was clearly ragged and worn out, and bleeding badly, which still perplexed Vash…how could an angel be wounded if they were immortal?

                Midvalley frowned slightly for a moment as he met Wolfwood's defiant, smirking face, and slowly, he glanced down at his chest, where the bullet had ripped through his suit and into his chest. A faint ring of brackish blood began to seep out along the edges, and he couldn't help but wince. That really had hurt…but blessed weapons were about all he had to worry about from this angel…He knew well that angels could not possess the full power to deter demons; that was God's ability, and none other's. After another moment, he slowly raised his dark eyes back to meet his assailant's, whose gaze still was steeped in satisfied loathing, and slowly, faintly smiled.

                "…What…?" Wolfwood asked in a breathy, hoarse voice, his battered cheat heaving breathlessly as he watched the musician smile and seemingly toss aside the fact that he'd been shot through the chest. 

                Vash narrowed his eyes warily; he knew that Midvalley's death meant more to him than it did to Wolfwood…after all; the priest hadn't been there to witness it…And if the priest's words were true…and death hadn't stopped Midvalley…and Midvalley was using these demons…then…

                Midvalley simply smiled at Wolfwood's confusion, ignoring the sting that radiated from the divine wound, and brought his near-empty glass to his lips, slowly finishing off his drink. After he pulled the glass away, he looked at it for a second before setting it down on the bar with a faint scraping sound, and brought his now free hand back to Sylvia's keys with a knowing glint in his dark eyes. With a faint expulsion of breath, he took the sax into his able hands and closed his eyes lightly as he brought the mouthpiece slowly to his lips. As he did this, the horde of demons backed away slowly, leaving Vash and Wolfwood alone…they understood what that saxophone meant…He was to take care of this himself.

                A second gunshot wracked the room, and the musician gasped as the reed and ligature exploded around his mouth, sending bits of plastic, metal, and wood flying everywhere. As he leaned his head back in shock at the sudden interruption, a third gunshot sounded, striking the thumbpad near the back of the instrument, causing the entire saxophone to fall from even Midvalley's well-trained grasp. It seemed to fall slowly to his feet, but as it struck the stone floor with a sounding crashing sound, the entire room fell lethally silent.

                Both Vash and Wolfwood stood at the ready, their respective guns aimed at where Sylvia had once been held. They were watching the instrumentalist with steady, wary eyes, waiting for him to do anything…anything at all. But he remained still for a long moment, his face hidden as he stared at his beloved saxophone, destroyed at his feet. His expression was completely unreadable, and after a moment, Vash spared a glance over to Wolfwood, whom he winced at upon seeing. The demons really had done a number on him…it was a wonder he was still conscious. But Wolfwood did not look to Vash…his eyes were fixed on Midvalley, his gun still aimed. A gritty, darkly triumphant grin was beginning to surface on his gashed and bloodied face as he watched the former Gung-Ho Gun begin to tremble slightly; it was just the reaction he'd been expecting.

                "…What the Hell did you just do…" came the soft, enraged question as Midvalley slowly raised his eyes to look at both the outlaw and the priest with uninhibited detestation and ire. His dark brown eyes, glinting slightly with subdued flecks of hellish crimson, held uncontestable fury as he slowly straightened his shoulders and stood back at full height.

                "I would think that'd be rather obvious by now," Wolfwood said cockily, though his voice was growing a bit weak. He gruffly ignored the blood that trickled down the side of his face, knowing that the impending fight would strain his sapped strength quite a bit. He couldn't deny the fact that those demons may have done more damage that he'd accounted for…and if Midvalley was leading them…"You're the one that's behind all this destruction, aren't you?" he spat, a few flecks of blood spattering across his lips as he spoke. "The one to blame for these demons…"

                Midvalley paused as he listened to Wolfwood's words, his rage boiling underneath his outwardly calm exterior. He tilted his head slightly, as though trying to see into the angel's mind, and chuckled faintly.

                "You have no idea…do you?" he asked, his voice soft and deadly. "I am hardly the one to blame for this planet's misfortune…but you…Chapel…Nicholas…you won't leave this tavern with your soul intact. So are my orders…"

                "Vash!" Wolfwood shouted as he felt a surge of darkness overwhelm his weary senses. He turned his eyes to the outlaw, knowing that Vash's unmatched speed would be his only salvation now. Vash caught the desperate look in the priest's eyes, and understood. Now was when he had to act…before Midvalley could carry out his so-called 'orders'. With a sure aim, he raised his revolver, knowing that the demon's attention rested fully on the wounded angel, and fired his last round. As the sound filled the room, he began to move unspeakably fast, ducking through the crowds of lesser demons as nothing more than a crimson shadow, firing continually and reloading, trying to keep the demon's eyes from Wolfwood, who was also now on the move. He knew that his simple bullets would only do minimal damage…but he had to hope that Wolfwood would come through…

                As several more gunshots sounded, several of which seemed to merely glance off of him, Midvalley sharply turned his head towards Vash the Stampede as he darted through the tavern, making use of all his surroundings. He could see a flash of faint white to one side, but he knew that the angel posed no threat. He was far too weak to injure him further; he wielded no power great enough to turn him back from this world…

                Slowly, he began to walk forward, his eyes still glittering with the hellish crimson, and stepped through the throng of demons towards the outlaw, who still moved too quickly for the naked eye to follow. He paid little heed to the bullets, both those that struck and those meant to fly wide. He could tell when Vash meant to miss…Vash the Stampede never missed on accident. He'd learned this well. 

                "Your efforts to aid the angel are…commendable…but pointless," he aid, his voice still smooth and silky, but there was a new, underlying tone of menace…rage…hatred…

                Suddenly, Vash paused in his movements, tumbling out from under a table, gun at the ready. His face was slightly flushed, and he was clearly breathless. His revolver was aimed directly at Midvalley, and a smile crept up on his face.

                "Are they?"

                A sharp, searing pain abruptly began to lash through him as he felt a pair of strong hands press forcibly down upon his shoulders, and a horrible shout of pain and rage filled the room as divine power flowed through him, and over his shoulder, he saw the smoldering, determined cobalt eyes of the angel he had thought bore no power.

                "How?! How could an angel-" 

                Nicholas smiled grittily, chuckling mirthlessly.

                "I'm not just an angel…tell your…Master…that he's dealing with more than he bargained for…" 

                There was a sudden burst of iridescent light as a second howl of anger and fury filled the ramshackle little tavern, and after Vash's eyes cleared, he looked up from where he knelt at Wolfwood, his dry determination fading into concern. Every demon that had been there was gone…and only the priest remained.

                The angel was rather pale, and he was breathing heavily as he dropped his hands from where Midvalley's shoulders had once been. His shirt and jacket were tattered from the lashes of demonic talons, and were stained with the blood that still seeped from various gashes along his formerly unmarred chest. Blood dripped out from the corner of his mouth, and a large bruise was beginning to form on his cheek. As he staggered back slightly, sweat shining lightly on his brow, he turned his head wearily to look at Vash, who had stood, eyes filled with worry, and gave a faint, triumphant chuckle before his face paled further, and the smile faded from his face.

                "Nicholas!" Vash cried, and he ran forward, knocking tables and chairs over as the angel collapsed from his wounds, and fell into Vash's ready arms. The outlaw slowly sank to his knees, cradling his wounded love against his chest, and went to brush a few dark strands from his scratched face. "Oh God…Nick…"

                The only response he received was a sickly grunt and a slight trembling as the angel cringed slightly, coughing a bit of blood past his lips.

                "Don't worry, Nick…I'll make you better…I just…I just wish I understood why you were so injured…why they hurt you so…and why Midvalley…why was he here…what does he have to do with this…God, I can't lose you so soon…I won't let you leave; not before we've finished…"

~*~

Author's Notes:

So we've faced the first of Knives' three generals…I hope Midvalley was characterized well! I had much help! And don't you guys be worrying about Wolfwood…I've got plans for our deal little angel…

So, to the victors go the spoils:

Thanks so much to Foresythe (Of "Kiss My Gun!" fame…^_^ I love you!)! She was my lifesaver when it came to writing Midvalley, and she made sure all my crap didn't suck. I just hope the ending wasn't too crappy…I was fighting my muses the whole way. 

So, looking forward to Chapter 8…

No fighting! Huzzah! Just relationship development…and questions are raised, and some questions are answered…


	9. Chapter Eight: A Gentle Reprieve

**Chapter Eight – A Gentle Reprieve **

                 _It's amazing…how much the mind wanders in silence. How much a person will think about when in the company of no one but themselves and the long stretch of road ahead of them. It's almost stifling, the way the stillness, the endless desert, and the complete isolation presses in against you…_

_                I just wish I understood everything that was going on…I had hoped that upon arriving at May city, a bit of light might be shed on this mystery. Much to my dismay, things have only gotten more complicated since we left May City…at first, we'd only been dealing with a disease…and now demons? And Wolfwood…Nicholas…_

_                Sometimes I find it hard to believe that he's here with me. He seemed like such a distant memory only days ago when we arrived in that bleak, dead city…It seemed an impossible dream that he was standing there, but it was a moment I'll never forget. Leave it to him to greet me by screaming at me and calling me names. Typical…I could ask no less of him. If it wasn't for him…I don't know if I would have been able to make it through Millie and Meryl's passing. He's taken it hard as well; I can see it in the way he carries himself…His inability to heal the girls of their illness has continued to taunt him; before we arrived at that fateful little bar, he would periodically lapse into a brooding silence, and I could read his confusion in those dimly illuminated cobalt eyes. _

_                I'm not sure which is more painful…the fact that he is no longer living, or the fact that he's returned to my side only to be taken away once he's finished here…But he's right. We need to make the most of the time we've been given._

_                Midvalley, however, made sure to see that our time was cut ruthlessly…I don't know completely why he was there besides to lead those demons, but I do understand that he and those…things…were trying to kill Nick…The evidence rests in the backseat, where I have him laid out, bandaged and cleaned…_

_                He looked horrible. No one should be brutalized like that; his wounds ran deep. So much blood; I thought he was going to leave me for sure. I suppose it was by the grace of God that he survived…but I wonder…_

_                If he's an angel, then why was he able to be injured? I already heard that angels were great, mighty beings, impervious to conventional weapons, immortal._

_                But then again, demons aren't conventional weapons. _

_                And while these creatures continue to ransack and fly in the face of all that is natural, this epidemic continued to ravage the planet from seemingly no source. If it were spread by air, it would have taken out far more people by now…it would have reached December by the time I'd left for May. Millie and Meryl…they would have died far sooner than they did. It obviously can't be spread by water; there's not enough on this planet for that to work. If it's contracted through human contact, that's plausible, but not many people travel between cities; not enough to explain how fast the disease spread._

_                I just don't understand…all this senseless death and violence; it makes no sense to me. _

_                But there I go, letting my mind wander aimlessly again…It's too quiet for my tastes. I'd give anything to have Wolfwood be sitting up here and crack a bad joke, tease me a little, I'd even let him call me Tongari! Anything to break the monotony. Even a snore would be nice, but I don't think I'm going to get even that for my troubles. _

_                All I can do is sit it out and wait for him to wake up and heal on his own. I hope that none of those things find us out here before he's well again…I can't combat those creatures on my own._

_                Evening's coming up now, so I guess I have to make camp for the night. It's only a few more days until we'll arrive on the edge of New Oregon, which will have most likely suffered the same fate as May and Inepriel, and both he and I need to be in the best of shape, or at least, as close as possible._

                The dusty, road worn jeep slowly came to a stop as the binary suns began to set over the horizon, casting long purple shadows across the rocky sand. Vash the Stampede sighed as he put the vehicle out of gear and opened the door to stand. He looked towards the east, the direction that they'd came from, narrowing his eyes, as though trying to see if they were being followed. He'd been driving away from that little spot in the road for the past two days, trying to put as much distance between them and those demons as possible. He'd been stopping every night to tend to Wolfwood and make sure that he was at least starting to heal, which, thankfully, he was. Vash marveled at how quickly the angel was healing, especially when considering how heinous his wounds where.

Once he was satisfied that they were safe, he stepped underneath the lengthening shadows of the large outcropping of rock overhead and over to the other side of the car, where Wolfwood's head was laid. Gently, the outlaw reached over and checked the bandages that were once again stained with blood, though he couldn't deny that there was a considerably less amount marring them.

Sighing, he realized that they were fresh out of bandages, so he begrudgingly left the dirty ones wrapped around the priest's torso and arms and sighed, pulling his gloved hands back slightly. He looked down at the angel's scratched, strangely serene face with pained viridian eyes and reached down, brushing several wayward raven strands from his face as though he were trying to get a better view of the man's face.

"Oh, Nick," Vash murmured faintly, and shook his head. "What a pair we make…" he continued gently, his fingers gracing along the contours of Wolfwood's rugged face and over numerous cuts and small, superficial wounds. His viridian eyes softened as his fingers paused, and he rested his leather-concealed palm against his jawline and leaned down, kissing his unmarred forehead with the slightest of touches.

There was a soft movement against his lips as Vash chastely kissed the prone angel, and he raised his head slightly, turning his eyes down to gaze at the whole of Wolfwood's face. His dark eyebrows were furrowed slightly, and he had indeed moved a bit, but he continued to sleep. Vash sighed, a bit disappointed, and stood completely up, letting his hand linger against his scratched face for a moment before he drew back and leaned against the side of the jeep, his shoulders slumping slightly. He bowed his head as a chilly night wind blew against him, sending grains of sand past him and brushed his hair away from his forlorn face. He couldn't help it, but he was beginning to feel a very real sense of loneliness. He'd not been able to talk to Wolfwood properly ever since that rather saddening and rudely interrupted conversation back at the bar…and he desperately wanted to continue. He'd been denied this for far too long to have it taken away again…

Before his death…when he and Wolfwood had first begun to travel together, there had never been any time nor a reason to truly talk about things like this…and once Vash had realized that he finally did have a reason, he'd ran out of time…

Eventually, the outlaw dozed off into slumber, his head hanging slightly to the side and his shoulders slightly hunched over. It appeared to be a rather uncomfortable position, because though Vash was clearly sleeping, his face was contorted in slight discomfort and pain, and he kept moving his neck a bit in his sleep. His troubled dreams didn't help his comfort either…he saw himself on a bleak, black landscape, with tiers of rocks far in the distance. A lonely wind howled in his ears, and a familiar, horrible laugh rang in his ears through the wind. He kept seeing images of grotesque abominations of nature, flying out across the deserts while clinging to torn, mutilated bodies in their gruesome talons. He heard their screeches in his ears, accompanied by horrible screams and the sounds of a saxophone wailing in the distance. He saw Millie and Meryl, calling to him from the grave. Their faces were grey and worn, their eyes dulled, and blood was smeared across their sickly faces. But try as he might, he couldn't reach them…not in time to save them…He could never save them…

"Vash!" he heard Wolfwood cry, and he turned to see the angel, broken and battered, fighting a losing battle against the vile creatures. "Vash! Please!" Blood flew as the demons assaulted the priest, and the sounds of his pained cries filled the outlaw's ears as he watched Nicholas stumble back and fall, broken feathers and blood following his deadly descent as the creatures fell upon him. His dark eyes dulled, and with a triumphant screech, the hellions fell in for the final kill.

"No!" Vash screamed as he felt a pair of hands wrap around his arms, and though he tried to lunge forward, he found himself held fast. Tears began to fall down his face, and he clawed at those captive hands, his shouting echoing far into the night.

"Vash! Please! Just wake up!" came Wolfwood's voice again, and Vash suddenly jerked sharply as those strong hands began to shake him. He bit his tongue in his surprise, and he gasped as his eyes flashed open and the darkness of the moonlit night met his blurry vision. His chest was heaving with labored breath, and tears were streaming freely down his face and soaking the tall collar of his coat.

"Vash…it was just a nightmare…" came the priest's voice again, this time not so forceful, and Vash gasped again and turned to face the owner of those strong hands.

"You were screaming something terrible…" Wolfwood said gently, his hands still holding Vash's in a concerned, vice-like grip. The angel's pale, scratched face was laced with concern, and though he looked clearly tired, his worry overrode any other emotion. Distraught jade met concerned cobalt for a long moment, and with a sudden sob, Vash felt his knees buckle slightly and he pitched forward a bit, throwing his arms around Nicholas' neck. He buried his face into the priest's neck, weeping bitterly though quietly, and for a long moment, nothing was said.

Slightly bewildered as he felt hot tears against his skin, Wolfwood looked along the slight curve of Vash's back as he felt the vibrations of the outlaw's weeping against him, and closed his eyes, leaning his head against Vash's and gently putting his arms around him.

"Shh…it's alright…"

"No…it was horrible," Vash affirmed quietly as he struggled to regain a bit of control. He pulled away slightly from Wolfwood's arms as he heard the door open, and watched with a bit of pained concern as the angel started to sit up and scoot over. He couldn't deny the fact that Nicholas was in pain with even the slightest of movements, but when the priest looked up at him and bade him to sit down beside him, he couldn't refuse, and sank into the seat beside him. Those warm arms wrapped around him again, comforting him, pulling him gently against him, and Vash shivered against the touch, slowly dying sobs still shaking him. "I can't lose you, Nicholas…not again…not so vainly…" Slowly, the outlaw looked up, his handsome hand streaked with dust and tears, his bright viridian eyes shining dully in the angel's soft light. He looked at Wolfwood guiltily, sadly, and yet with a sense of unquenchable awe and thankfulness.

                "When I found you at the altar of that church…so pale, so without that spark of life that had personified you in my mind for so long…when the stench of blood and needless sacrifice filled my nose…" Vash hesitated as a soft, dying sob rose in his throat, "…I'd only felt such deep, distraught despair once before…I felt so powerless. I couldn't save Caine…and I couldn't save you. The man who had walked into my life and saw me for who I really was, and yet didn't judge…who had given me his friendship, and more importantly, his trust..." he paused, looking down a bit as he recalled those few dark moments. "The man who had willingly given his life to save his children…and me. And I had let you die there, instead of following you when I realized you were injured…" He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. "I let you die when I know I could have healed you…"

                "But you didn't," Wolfwood said finally, but not with any trace of malice. He reached down and cupped Vash's face gently with his palm, bringing his eyes back up to meet his own. "You knew you couldn't…If you had, Knives would have just found another way to kill me before you reached him. He wanted you to suffer so much that you would realize that mankind was a heartless, inferior race that weren't worthy to breathe the same air as you two…who weren't worthy to live." The priest looked at Vash softly for a moment, a bit of his own guilt wavering in his eyes. "And I had willingly bought into that scheme. I had been willing to crush your heart and your spirit…that beautiful, selfless soul…all for blood money. But…if I had refused…the church would have been destroyed…and I would have been alone. I wouldn't have found you, and would have died an unchanged, unredeemed man, bitter and clinging to the blood on my hands, thinking that there was no other way... " He brushed a few tears from Vash's drawn face, his bruised fingers passing over his dusty face with unbidden grace and care, and smiled. "For you, I thank God every day…"

                There was a moment of pure silence after this simple yet weighty statement, and even the wind took a pause from its whispering, as if to let the angel and the outlaw share one true moment of privacy. A moment away from the bloodshed, away from the death and darkness that the world around them had crumbled into. A few silent seconds to themselves, without the smell of dust and gunpowder, without the memories of friends long lost and enemies raised again. Vash closed his eyes for a moment, a few more warm tears falling down his dusty cheeks and touching Wolfwood's fingers. He didn't want to have to give Nicholas up again…he knew that he was being selfish, but so much had been taken away from him already…so much loss in his life; he didn't want to be stripped of this last thread of happiness; this Godsend.

                "…Vash…" came his name, gentle and quiet, and Vash slowly looked up into dimly illuminated cobalt eyes. There was an undeniable trace of sadness in those eyes, mixed with many other things that the priest would never have given words to. Guilt, love, fear…even hints of confusion hung in that deep blue sea…for a moment, Vash knew what Wolfwood must have felt when he first saw past his own happy façade.

                The outlaw took a breath; he knew that words for emotional encounters such as this did not come easily to the priest, so he simply smiled at the lack of more words, understanding well what it was that Wolfwood had been trying to convey. He shook his head slightly, a light stream of tears still slipping down his sandy cheeks, and gently moved towards the angel, softly pressing his palms against Nicholas' cheeks.

Wolfwood closed his eyes a bit as he let the outlaw touch him, tilting his head to the side and into Vash's hands.  He never wanted to leave this, and the knowledge that he would have to eventually, possibly even very soon, struck him painfully. Then, truly, Vash would be alone. Alone on this barren, bleak desert planet with nothing but a bounty and his scars to keep him company. And he, Wolfwood, would be in Paradise…but was it truly utopia?

'In Eden…I would live him…and the girls…' 

Yes, the girls would be there with him...but there would be no Vash once he left this planet, his mission complete. Both he and Vash would lose in the end…Perhaps it would have been better if he'd not been the one sent on this mission…then Vash would not have this added pain…this extra loss…Silently, he reached his arms around the quietly distraught man and furrowed his brow gently as he pulled Vash against him and rested his head against his shoulder. He could feel Vash breathing in a softly erratic fashion, still weeping from the metaphoric truth of his nightmare, and cursed at Fate and her irony. How could so many horrible, unhappy things happen to such a kind, gentle soul? He was tired of that hollow smile and those empty eyes…

_'Heaven…is no longer…and never was…my Paradise…'_ he thought as he felt Vash grasp at his suit jacket with trembling fingers. _'Paradise is his truly blissful smile…away from all this damned depression…I want this. Nothing more than this…Is that too much to ask for?'_

There was a faint movement, and suddenly, Wolfwood found himself gazing into damp, emotional green eyes once more, and he felt as though Vash were staring into the very depths of his soul…so vulnerable, and yet, he returned the intense gaze with equal conviction.

"All of this could end tomorrow, Wolfwood," Vash said softly. "We could figure this all out, and you will be gone. There may not be another night for us to sit here together…or drown in our sorrow…and I'm not willing to let opportunity pass by me like I did before…"

His voice was firm yet faint, trembling from his previous crying, and as he fell silent, he swallowed, and began to lean forward, closing his eyes as another tear ran down his face. He knew the time left they had together like this was precious and limited, and he was not about to let it slip out of his grasp like he had before…

Their lips touched gently but strongly, caressing against each other with a reverence and grace that seemed almost out of place with their surroundings. As Vash tilted his head slightly to the side and ran a hand lightly up the priest's arm, the breeze that had been blowing against them cast strands of Wolfwood's raven hair free and against his face, tickling his nose and kissing his face with their light touch. He furrowed his brow a little as Nicholas' hand gently came to rest against his neck below his jawline. His fingers were slightly rough and calloused, but far from abrasive as they tenderly stroked the skin and traced along the outlaw's jaw reverently. He'd never known the priest to hold such tender grace before…he'd always came off as rough and sardonic…It only went to further prove that the somewhat enigmatic man had many facets.

Sighing softly against Wolfwood's lips, Vash tasted salt tears on his tongue as he parted his lips gently and followed the angel in suit. He was not the only one to shed tears tonight…and though Nicholas had never actually said that he loved him, the presence of those tears was enough to voice those words silently. Vash marveled, not unemotionally, at how such emotion had followed the priest even beyond the grave…He wanted to make love to this man; this renegade priest; this unconventional angel who had refused to give into the darkness forced upon him by his brother for the children of December…and for him. Who willingly died for him…

Slowly, the gunslinger brought a crimson clad arm up and around Wolfwood's shoulders, running his fingers up through the dark hair at the base of his neck, and pressed his parted lips up against his lover's, pulling him carefully down as he minded the healing wounds.

Never mind the wind, the sand, the sadness…this could very well be their last night alone without bloodshed and demons. This was a precious commodity…something they could not frivolously waste.

Wolfwood brought his hand from Vash's jawline and around to the back of his head as he felt the outlaw draw him down, and though he couldn't deny the cramped conditions of the jeep, right now, all that mattered was the man beneath him…Never mind the demons and the blood; his duties could wait…

                But…

                But if he did make love to Vash tonight…what would happen tomorrow? If this had been before his death, he would have had no reservations; all he would have needed to know was that Vash loved him and vice versa. That would have been all that mattered, and he really wouldn't have minded giving Knives and the Gung Ho Guns the proverbial finger for his love. He would have found a way to protect the children and Vash…

                But now, this was not the case. He was no longer a human, able to give in so easily to such worldly desires. He was shackled by these wings…Angels were forbidden to be with others like this…It was severe taboo… and though he wanted this, he knew that…if he and Vash were to make love, then all might very well be lost…Would his angelic powers be stripped? Would he be forever damned?  A fallen angel, unable to help Vash or complete the mission that he'd been sent back to this planet for? He didn't know…and as much as he hated to, he didn't want to take that chance.

                "No…" he said softly as he pulled back from Vash's lips, and closed his eyes, looking both ashamed and saddened. "I'm sorry, Vash…but I can't do this…As much as I want to, I can't." He could see the pained confusion in Vash's eyes, and cursed again these wings…this divine light within him. "I shouldn't even have kissed you…You see, angels…we're not allowed to do such things…I'm not sure why…but we aren't…. It's…like, taboo, you might say…"

                As Wolfwood explained why he could not make love to him, Vash could see the quarrel raging in his cobalt eyes, and sighed sadly. Even now, they weren't free…everything the two of them did was always wrong under someone's eye…

                "It's alright…Nicholas," he said gently as he sat up, and brushed a few dark strands from the priest's conflicted eyes. "You can't help what you are…and I won't force the matter…just…" he paused, and smiled a bit. "Just as long as you're still here with me…That's enough…"

                Wolfwood tried to smile, but failed, and sighed. "Come on…we should be going…we can't stay in one place for too long; we might be being followed, and we don't want those demons or any other…old friends…catching up with us…"

                Vash nodded in understanding, and was about to get into the driver's seat after standing when he felt a strong hand on his shoulder. Gently, Wolfwood moved him aside and shook his head.

                "You sleep…I don't need to," he murmured, and promptly got in. "I fixed the seatbelt on your side the night before we got to that bar, so you don't have to worry about that anymore."

                Vash smiled a bit, still somewhat stalled in sullen silence as he took his place and buckled up, and after the engine came to life again at the priest's urgings, he sank back into a faintly slouching position and began to drift into sleep, his head tilting over to the side and resting faintly on Wolfwood's shoulder. The wind brushed his flaxen hair against his face, finally at peace and no longer filled with woe and troubles, and though Nicholas hated the fact that he had been forced to deny him, he couldn't help but smile. At least he was free of nightmares now…

                _I don't understand why he fell in love with me in the first place. I was his enemy for so long…even though he didn't know it, I was going to turn him in to his ruthless brother. That was my original purpose for following the crazy bastard around…Money for the children. I honestly had no idea what I was getting myself into when I took the job; all I knew of Vash when I inadvertently met him on the way to Jenenora Rock was that he was a city-destroying, ruthless man with sixty billion double dollars on his head. But when my trip was interrupted by a broken motorcycle and I was saved by this donut-loving goof of a man with such hollow eyes…A part of me realized that this wasn't the man I was sent to shepherd, and yet he was. Damn my luck. Part of me wished that he really had been that merciless gunslinger; then at least my job would have been made easy. At least, relatively speaking._

_                But him and his ideals…those silly pacifistic dreams that he kept preaching to me…For God's sake, I thought I was the preacher around here! I can't count how many times he spat my own religion back at me. 'Thou shalt not kill! What the Hell kind of churchman are you??' being his favorite quip…If he were anything like his brother, he would have laughed in satisfaction at changing the priest turned mercenary into another idealistic crusader. But of course, Vash didn't have any idea…He was so unassuming; I wonder if he ever realized just how I knew that Knives was in Dhimitri…_

_                I don't deserve his love. On the day before I died, I tried to kill him…I really did try…but his idyllic logic won me over, just as it had done so many times before…He really is pretty good at pissing me off, but…_

_                I still don't understand why he fell in love with me. We led lives that were far too different; I even told him that…but that didn't deter him either…_

_                I don't know why he loves me…but I consider myself lucky…even if I can only experience this love for a short time…a brief taste of what might have been…_

                "My God…Vash…Vash, wake up…" came Wolfwood's voice through the haze of sleep, and after a few moments of coaxing, Vash slowly opened his eyes and rubbed them against his sleeve, yawning a bit. Dawn was upon them; the binary suns were rising over the horizon and cast pink light over the rocky desert, but Vash noticed something rather odd about then.

                "Why aren't we going anywhere?" he asked as he looked quizzically at Wolfwood. The engine was still running, but the priest had brought them to a full stop near a ridge that overlooked the city of New Oregon.

                "The city, Vash. Look at the city."

                Confused, Vash turned his head in compliance and gazed down into New Oregon, and suddenly realized why the angel seemed so aghast.

                "How…but…how…"

                The sounds of voices and the laughter of people heading off to work for the morning filtered up to their ears, as did the sound of braying thomases and various vehicles. Lights were slowly coming on inside shops and houses all throughout the city, and near the West end of the town, looming over the buildings, was the plant. Vash frowned at this; the plant didn't seem to be running, as though it was down, and there was no traces of demons or sickness or any sort.

                "I don't understand…how can they be surviving? They haven't been hit by the demons or disease…and their plant is down…I don't…"

                "Let's go, Vash. We won't find any answers to those questions unless we get to town…"

Author's Notes:

RAR! I'm so freaking glad that chapter's over…it gave me Hell. My muses decided to go on vacation right before school let out, so the plans to complete this chapter before school was over went out the window. --;;

But anyway, here you go! Don't know about the next chapter, but…the next chapter is the beginning of the end. The last two generals and part of the mystery solved.


	10. Chapter Nine: A Broken Taboo

**Chapter Nine – A Broken Taboo**

"I don't believe it…"

"You and me both, Tongari…you and me both…"

As the jeep slowly approached the thriving city, the sounds of life and hustle came closer…the sounds were so alien to their ears that it felt almost a surreal dream; as though they were walking through an elaborate hallucination. Ahead of them, just beyond the main gates, men and woman stepped out of their homes and started down the street for work. Near the plant, which lay in the center of the town, there was a lot of movement of people coming and going through the gates, but there didn't seem to be any activity from the plant itself. Children hurried off to school; thomases brayed in protest as the few automobiles passed by. Dogs barked and, as they entered the city, a small black cat on the nearby windowsill yowled vaguely at them, watching their passage with large, lamp like yellow eyes.

"I mean…look at this…all this life…it…I don't understand…" Vash murmured as he turned his head and watched the people all around him begin their daily work. Beside him, Wolfwood shook his head briefly in understanding of Vash's perplexion; he too, was baffled by the lack of disease here. Certainly, they were aware of it; there were various fliers posted on street posts and in store windows warning against infection and to report to the local physicians if they began to experience the symptoms of this strange plague. But there were no word of any demons…did they only come with the disease?

"Not only are they alive…but they seem to have suffered minimal damage from the plant being down," Wolfwood commented as they passed down the Main street, looking around curiously.

"It may not have broken down too long ago…there seems to be a lot of people around there, so they must be working on it quickly," Vash commented as the turned a corner. But even though this random presence of life befuddled him, Vash couldn't deny that he was happy at the thriving city, and at the prospect of fresh food and drink and a comfortable bed to sleep in for at least one night.

Wolfwood, however, was not looking quite as cheerful. His cobalt eyes were wary as he looked around him, and though he could tell that none of these people were demons in disguise, there was something about this place…a presence here…that he wasn't sure he liked. Noticing this, Vash smiled a bit and put a hand on the angel's shoulder, squeezing lightly.

"You worry too much, Nick," he commented. "There's no trace of anything in this town…demons or disease…just try and not be on edge for one night…I think we both deserve a night of peace and quiet without having to worry about anything…"

"But doesn't that strike you as odd? That we've been through three places that were completely dead, and then randomly we find this one place that's been untouched?" the priest asked, looking back into those sensitive green eyes. "It just doesn't feel right…"

"You're right…it is kinda weird…but do we really have any choice? You're still in bad shape and I can barely hold my head up…we need a break…even if it's a short one. We can't fight demons half dead and asleep on our feet…"

"Yeah…that's true, I guess…" Wolfwood admitted, and sighed. "Alright…you win, Tongari. We'll find a place to stay for the night…but if anything bad happens, anything at all! Then don't say I didn't tell you so!" he cried, waving a finger at the outlaw in a dangerous fashion.

Vash chuckled a bit. "Warning duly noted," he remarked with a sigh, and sank back down into his seat, letting his shoulders loosen a little. At least the priest had agreed to stay at least one night here. This was the first piece of true civilization that he'd seen since he'd left December those many days ago. It felt like ages ago…and the last few weeks had been only but a dream. This entire experience had been incredibly surreal, and briefly, as his thoughts drifted back to the dysfunctional plant, he wondered where his brother had gotten to…Had he reached the city already and helped save the people before the disease had really taken hold? After all, he had promised Vash that he was going to "rectify his past mistakes"…the thought that Knives had indeed helped Humanity somehow brought a smile to his tired lips…

BANG!

Vash nearly leapt out of his seat as the nasty cracking sound filled the air, and put a hand to his chest as he looked around wildly to find the source. It had sounded almost, but not quite, like a gunshot, which had alarmed him and brought a hand to the gun at his hip. His hand was stilled, however, as warm fingers forcefully gripped his, and he looked up at Wolfwood questioningly.

"The damn jeep made that sound, Vash!" the angel cried bitterly as the sickly little vehicle came to a slow stop. "So, just calm down…I would wager a guess that those demons did a number on this more than just scratching the hell out of the paint job…"

And indeed, the jeep looked a right state, and was getting several alarmed looks from the passersby. Long, deep gash marks in the body ripped along the side of the battered little jeep, and blood stained the backseat badly from where Wolfwood had been laid out a few days previous. Dust and grime covered the entire thing, and one of the tires was severely low on air.

Nicholas, however, seemed completely oblivious to all of this as he kicked his door open and leapt out. He gave a few of the people staring at them nasty looks as he did so, and slammed the door shut before he addressed them.

"Yeah? You've never seen somebody have car trouble before?" he asked, clearly in the beginnings of a rotten mood. For a moment, it looked like a man on the edge of the street was about to address him, but once he saw the venomous look in the priest's eyes, he changed his mind and ambled on. Grumbling a bit, Wolfwood narrowed his eyes and started for the hood of the car. Vash watched then for a moment, and then decided to get out. He smiled sheepishly at the people near him, who were alarmed at Wolfwood's behavior, and waved a hand dismissively at them.

"Oh, don't mind him. He's just been driving all night and needs some sleep," he said, which seemed to sate the majority. After they meandered away, Vash sighed, his shoulders slumping, and made his way to Wolfwood, who was staring at the internal workings of the jeep in slight dismay and more than a little anger.

"Nick, was that really necessary? We are a bit conspicuous, you know…with a jeep that's nearly been ripped in five different pieces," he remarked wryly. "Not that we exactly need to stick out in a crowd…but your yelling isn't going to make us any less noticeable." As he spoke, he got the distinct impression that the angel wasn't listening, and was in fact a million miles away. "Hey, are you even listening to me!?"

It was then that he noticed the thin trail of black smoke coming up from under the hood, and fell silent. "Oh."

"Stick a fork in her. She's done," Wolfwood remarked finally with a sigh, and slammed the hood down on the newly deceased vehicle roughly. Grimacing, he turned and leaned against the badly dented bumper and pulled out a cigarette, putting it on his lips and lighting it in a slightly disgruntled fashion.

"But…hey!" Vash cried after a moment as he watched Wolfwood sit there, smoking in grumpy silence. "You're just going to sit there?! What are we supposed to do about getting around now?!"

"You've got legs, don't you?" Wolfwood asked pointedly, fixing Vash with an emphatic look. Vash opened his mouth to retort, but closed it just as quickly when he realized that he had nothing to say against that. As much as he hated to admit it, the priest was right, and it wasn't as though they'd been stuck walking endlessly through that desolate wasteland that stretched out beyond the city before. His only worry now was that they might not move fast enough to help those lives that had not yet been claimed by this strange illness.

"Well…can we at lest find somewhere to stay for the night? The last time I checked, vagrancy was still a crime," the outlaw remarked as he crossed his arms. The priest regarded him for a moment and smiled, standing and taking a thoughtful drag on his cigarette.

"Alright…we just need to find a junkyard to sell this heap at; we can get some money that way so we don't end up sleeping in a ditch," he remarked, running his free hand through his raven hair slightly. After putting out the rest of the cigarette, he grinned at Vash and clapped a hand congenially on his shoulder. "So! Guess what you get to help me do!"

Vash regarded Wolfwood very warily for a moment…He wasn't sure he liked that overly friendly grin on the priest's face…He'd seen it before, and never did it bode well for him.

"…What?"

"When…we get…to that hotel…after this…I'm going to kill you, Wolfwood!"

"Now now…not only is that illegal, but it's against everything you stand for, AND…you can't kill me. Too bad, so sad, Tongari!"

The sand crunched beneath Vash's boots as they ground against the dirt, and the binary suns overhead glinted painfully against the metallic body of the jeep as he stood beside the angel, pushing the jeep slowly through the streets. His arms were tired, his legs were tired, he was thirsty, he had to use the bathroom, AND, to top it all off, he was hungry! Sweat trickled down his brow, and every chance that he got, he made it a point to turn his viridian eyes on Nicholas and glare venomously at him. However, this only served to infuriate him more, as the glare was always met with that infernally cocky grin.

They'd been at this for the past three hours, most of which had been spent with them being lost until Vash had finally convinced Wolfwood to ask for directions, after which they had learned that the junkyard that they sought was on the other side of the city. Vash, needless to say, was less than thrilled at the angel after this, and had threatened him several times during this ordeal.

"I told you…don't call me that, damn it! I hate that stupid nickname!" Vash growled through gritted teeth as he and Wolfwood managed to push the jeep another few feet and turn a corner. All around them, people continued to stare, and the people who were being delayed due to their Herculean efforts yelled and cursed at them as they passed. So much for being inconspicuous…

"Aha…all the more reason for me to call you that…Tongari…" Wolfwood said, and Vash found it partially amazing that the angel could still grin, even with sweat dripping down his flushed face and his raven hair clinging to the back of his neck like a second skin. Groaning in defeat, Vash decided that it would be better to just give him the silent treatment rather than put up with those barbed, sardonic replies.

By the time they had arrived at the junkyard and gotten their money from the dealer, it was well past noon, and Vash's stomach was rumbling ominously. His mouth was making quite a racket as well as they left the yard, several tons of steel lighter and a few double dollars richer.

"C'mooooon, Nick, can't we _please_ stop somewhere to eat? I'm about to die over here!" he said in a weak voice as they stepped along the sidewalk. A gloved hand was pressed against his middle, and at every restaurant they passed, his eyes lingered longingly at the doorway, his bottom lip trembling slightly. It didn't help that Wolfwood was walking beside him; carefully counting the money they'd just cashed in on, and was pointedly ignoring all the food establishments, including the simple street vendors who called out verbal advertisements for their wares. "That's so cold…" he whimpered, and reached over, gripping onto the priest's sleeve. "Gah…How can you just sit there counting that money and ignoring meee?! I'm dying of starvation over here!"

Wolfwood turned his head finally at that, and seemed to look Vash over thoughtfully for a moment. For a split second, the gunslinger thought that maybe, just maybe, the priest was going to fork over a few double dollars and let him get something to eat. _'Oh…forks…and spoons…salmon sandwiches…donuts…' _

"You look perfectly healthy to me," Nick proclaimed with a smile, and thumped the outlaw heartily on the back. "We'll get something to eat in a little bit."

"I...I…wha?" Vash said, slightly dazed and disheartened as he watched Wolfwood start off for a hotel at the end of the street, and let out a sad little whimper. It wasn't fair…just because Wolfwood didn't have to eat, he thought that no one else had to either…

Hanging his head sadly, he mumbled sadly to himself as he followed behind the angel, stepping through the crowd and past people who were lucky enough to have eaten both breakfast AND lunch and didn't have an angelic Nazi controlling all the income around here…_'It's just evil. Evil! Oh, look…a chicken club sandwich. Being handed to me…Oh it looks good…with bacon…and chicken…and mayo-AH!'_

"Here," came Nicholas' voice in amusement as he watched Vash stare incredulously at the sandwich in his hand as though it were a godsend. "Chow down."

"AH! Sweet manna from Heaven!" Vash cried as he gleefully snatched the sandwich and unwrapped it excitedly. Crumbs flew all about the place as he took no time to savor the flavor and wolfed the sandwich down, and his lack of manners earned him a few more curious, often disgusted looks. He looked up at the priest with great big happy eyes, unknowing of the mayonnaise smeared about the corners of his lips and the crumbs that clung stubbornly there.

"Err...glad to see you liked it," Wolfwood said after a moment as he recovered from the shock of Vash's eating habits. "But there's a hotel right here that has rates low enough for us to stay at for at least two nights on this budget. While you were moping along down the street, I got us a room, and found out from the innkeeper what's up with the plant."

"Really?" Vash inquired, looking much better as he followed the priest to the hotel. He absently wiped his mouth off with his sleeve as they stepped into the common room, where several other patrons were sitting around, sharing an afternoon snack and conversing idly. "Anything about the disease?"

"Nothing," Wolfwood remarked as he handed Vash his key. "But I do know that the plant has been down for repairs for the past month or so, and they've been working on it extensively since then. They expect it to be up and running soon, though. Possibly by tomorrow."

"Well, that's a good thing. They wouldn't be able to survive long without the plant giving them the energy they need."

As he spoke this, he followed the priest, who had walked towards the small bar that was set up in the corner of the common room and had bought a single bottle of bourbon. At Vash's questioning look, Wolfwood smiled and shrugged. "It's been a while since we could share a drink in silence."

The room was a rather Spartan one, with only a pair of full-size beds in each corner and a table against one of the walls. The table, chairs, and bed frames were made of some sort of material that looked almost, but not quite, like wood, and the rest of the place was the same dull yellow stone that matched the color of the bleak desert just outside the window.

"Nice to know the hotels keep themselves consistent in décor from town to town," Vash remarked wryly as he closed the door behind he and Wolfwood, and it was true; every hotel room he'd ever stayed in looked remarkably alike: dull and boring. He made a mental note to write a nasty letter to the head of whatever hotel corporation ran these things and order them to fire the head of the interior-decorating department.

"Don't complain; we're on a budget," Wolfwood remarked as he leaned the bound Punisher against the wall near one of the beds and sank into a chair. He winced slightly as he did so, and for the first time all day, Vash noticed the pained weariness in Wolfwood's eyes; that the sweat on his brow was not just from the exertion and heat. He'd almost forgotten about the terrible wounds that the angel had suffered, and suddenly felt quite selfish about complaining about his hunger moments before.

"Nick…" he began to say, but the priest looked up at Vash and waved a hand dismissively at him.

"I'll be fine, Vash. I've been in worse scrapes than a few gashes and a…well, okay, the broken wing might take the cake for the most bizarre injury, but I'll be fine. I'm the resilient type." He offered the outlaw a reassuring smile at this, and waved the bottle at Vash, gesturing for him to take a seat. "Come on, share a drink with me," he requested, and picked up the two courtesy cups that had been sitting on the table when they had entered.

The worried look on Vash's face didn't fade as he sat down across from the wounded man, and absently took the bourbon when it was handed to him. It bothered him immensely that Wolfwood 's battered wing hadn't healed yet; it had been quite a few days, and it had outlasted the more recent wounds he'd received at Midvalley's hand. Midvalley…what else were these demons going to spring on them? That had almost done them both in…and he wasn't sure that Wolfwood could continue and fight in his current state…

"Why hasn't it healed yet?"

The question seemed to catch Nicholas off guard, and he looked up from his drink at Vash, whose own drink remained untouched. He could see the concern easily in those viridian eyes; the worry and the sympathetic pain within them, and sighed.

"The only reason the demons hurt me is because, for all intensive purposes, we're the same sort of being…Demons are just fallen angels under the control of Satan…and even he is just a very powerful angel. And since we're both supernatural in nature, that's why they injure me so. The only reason our weapons can hurt them is because they're blessed." Putting a hand tiredly to his head as he spoke, he closed his eyes for a moment. "They attacked the wings most likely because that would impede me more than say a hand or an arm, plus they're more obtrusive and an more obvious target. They're also more fragile, and would take longer to heal than a cut or a scratch. Make sense?"

Slowly, Vash nodded, and regarded the man across from him for a long time in silence, watching him drink his drink, then gradually reverted his gaze down to the opaque brown liquid in his cup. He really didn't want anything to drink…right now; even the thick, heady scent of the liquor was a bit repulsive to his nose. He wanted…he wanted to see those wings…Try to help heal them…He wanted to help heal this man who had come back from the dead to help save him…who had given him more hope and his heart…

The silent drinking continued for a while, until the bottle was almost empty by the angel's own drinking, but he didn't appear to be inebriated in the least. Outside, the suns had begun to set, casting a dim orange light in through the ratty curtains that hung over the windows, and lit up the dark brown bottle vaguely. And yet, the outlaw hadn't taken a single drink of his own, and had simply resigned himself to looking down at his wavering reflection in thought.

"Can I see them?"

Wolfwood paused as he was raising his drink to his lips, and gave Vash a curious look, laced with surprise.

"Your wings, I mean…I'd like to see them…Just to see how they're healing…" Vash offered a faint smile and cast his eyes aside, looking a little embarrassed. "I can tell…that they're still hurting you, even though you try to hide it." He held his cup in his gloved hands as he spoke, a faint pink alighting on his cheeks. "I'm just…well, I'm worried about you, Nick. I want you to be here…as long as possible…with me…"

He knew it was selfish, but he couldn't help it…this concern that stirred in his chest every time that he looked over at the priest. He didn't want to watch him suffer this pain alone the way he'd suffered silently in life…He couldn't bear the thought that with each second, that divine light that glowed slightly behind his eyes might be fading. Slowly, he raised his eyes again and looked up at Wolfwood, biting his bottom lip slightly. He blinked, tears coming to the edge of his eyes as a bit of fear once again swept over him, and breathed slightly.

"I…I love you, Nick," he admitted quietly, and raised a few fingers to wipe at his eyes. He swallowed, shaking his head. "Even though it doesn't matter anymore…we only have a little time left, and you'll be gone again…but…I just wanted to say it. At least once before you're taken from me again…"

A faint rustling sound from across the table brought Vash's eyes up from the grain of the table, and he gave Wolfwood a slightly confused look as he watched the priest stand silently and set his empty glass aside. His expression was unreadable, but he gave the outlaw a meaningful look before he turned his back and moved his hands to the front of his jacket. He moved slowly, as though the action pained him slightly, but after a moment, he slowly shrugged off his blazer and dress shirt and laid them across the back of his recently vacated seat. His tanned, lean back was surprisingly unmarred and smooth, save for the slight dip of his spine that ran down the middle and beneath the hem of his black trousers, and the slight indentations of strong, muscled shoulder blades. As he slightly turned his head, his profile in Vash's sights for a brief moment, the dim light cast along the strong curve of his nose and caressed the curve of his cheeks, though his raven hair sheltered his dark eyes from the illumination, and his expression was solemn, yet gentle as he moved, his hand lingering slightly on the clothing as he laid it out.

Vash watched him in silent awe, watched how the priest seemed to move with such grace that it seemed no earthly words could merit. It was strange…he seemed to move in the same manner that he had always moved in, but…watching him now, Vash couldn't help but feel a bit humbled in the angel's presence. He watched the smooth movements of those strong arms as Wolfwood draped his blazer and shirt across the chair; watched how the dim light lightly kissed the smooth tanned skin of his back, and let his eyes linger on the raven hair that clung casually to the nape of the priest's neck. He smiled softly as he wondered how it might feel to touch those dark strands with his bare fingers, and sighed, perhaps a bit wistfully. It was never meant to be…not completely, anyway. Regardless of what they both wanted…there would always be something in their way blocking them…

A sudden, hushed rustling sound brought Vash out of his sad reverie, and slowly, he glanced up towards the priest, breathing deeply. His breath, however, fled instantly as his gaze fell upon the elegant expanse of ivory that had blossomed into existence. A sharp contrast to Wolfwood's tanned back; the snowy feathers caressed his skin gently, casting a dim white glow across the entire of his body. The wings were tucked a bit awkwardly to the priest's back, and still, several fragile bones protruded angrily from the slowly healing wounds, blood smeared across the unblemished white. As he watched the blessed wings tremble slightly, a few flawless feathers cascaded to the stone floor, followed by a slow, sudden ooze of blood, spattering lightly across the ground at the angel's feet. Wolfwood inhaled slightly in pain, his hand gripping the top of his chair tightly as the full force of the wounds swelled from a dull hidden ache to a steady pain, and Vash couldn't help but bite his lip in empathy as he listened to the suffering that the angel was keeping hidden within. Slowly, the outlaw stood, a bit unsure as he sat his chair aside, and stepped forward, pulling his leather gloves off quietly and setting them aside on the table beside the empty bottle. He swallowed a bit, and as he stepped up behind the angel, he realized that he had a pair of intense cobalt eyes watching him intently over the graceful arch of his less wounded wing, and breathed in slightly. His hands hesitated, but Wolfwood frowned at him.

"It's okay, Vash…" he said softly, and nodded, taking a breath. He knew that Vash's touch would be careful and gentle, but even the most gentle of touches would cause such fragile appendages as these wings great pain. He watched the outlaw move with a curious hesitance, and closed his eyes briefly as he vaguely felt the warmth of Vash's fingers near the delicate feathers.

As he touched the soft feathers near the base of the angel's back, Vash felt the skin beneath his fingertips hitch slightly, but it was a subtle movement, and for a moment, his touch stilled, afraid that he had inadvertently hurt him somehow. But when no other admission made itself known, the outlaw continued tracing tenderly along the soft crown of downy fuzz that framed the wings at their base, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the travesty of the bloodied, mangled bones and feathers…such brilliance, broken, and for what? Closing his eyes, Vash leaned forward and closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against the back of the priest's neck, slipping his arms possessively around his waist.

"I don't want you to go. Not again…I…I just wish I could help you…I wish I could stop this pain you're going through. I want to make it better…" Tears were coming afresh on his eyes and slowly slipped down the curve of his fair cheeks, pressed against Wolfwood's shoulder blades.

Wolfwood said nothing to this as he reached down gently with his own hands and pressed them against Vash's own, holding them tightly. He swallowed, bowing his head a bit as he felt the slight touch of tears against his back. He didn't want Vash to weep over him…He never thought himself worthy of such pure tears. But that was no longer a reasonable wish, and the priest knew that he would have to suffer those world-weary eyes and those lonely, lost tears for the rest of eternity…

Taking a breath, Wolfwood finally raised his head a bit and opened his eyes as he pulled Vash's hands away from around his middle, and took a step forward. He slowly turned, his wings tucked so as not to bump into anything, and as he turned to face the outlaw, he saw the deep truth of those tears, and watched as they slipped helplessly down that handsome face. His breath hitched slightly; no, it was too much for them to ask of him to leave Vash here alone on this world. It was the last, worst form of judgment for his innocent, lonely heart.

"Vash…" he murmured gently, but that was all he needed to say, and suddenly, the outlaw had hurried forward and embraced him tightly, still minding the wounds. His tears were falling free now as he buried his face in Nicholas' neck, weeping silently. Wolfwood frowned as he leaned his head down and against the outlaw's, embracing him tightly.

_'I can't leave him like this…alone and suffering in a world that doesn't understand him. I'm the only one left who truly knows him now…who can see beyond the mask of The Humanoid Typhoon and see Vash. Just Vash…'_ The priest closed his eyes; he had made his decision, and he was willing to accept any and all of the consequences that might befall him. He couldn't abandon Vash again.

Gently, he brought his hand down and laid it against the curve of the outlaw's jaw, and slowly raised his head so that he could look down into those tearful viridian eyes. Wolfwood studied them for a long moment, remembering the first time he saw past that mask and into such pained, haunted eyes. He'd loved that one pure smile…he wanted to see it again. He wanted Vash to know that even were he to be eternally damned for what he was about to do, that he loved him. Had always, and would always. His fingers traced along the smooth, damn curve of the outlaw's face, over the single beauty mark and up into the ends of his hair beside his temple just slightly, as though memorizing him with his fingertips, and took a breath as his fingers graced gently over his eyes.

_'God forgive me…I can't abandon him again…'_

The kiss was soft…almost chaste had it not been for the bittersweet need Vash felt in the angel's lips. He breathed out unsteadily against his tears as they sought to slip between their joined lips, the faint taste of salt lingering in the kiss. But to his surprise, he found that his were not the only tears in the kiss, and this fact only seemed to cause his to fall even more pronounced as he tightened his embrace around Wolfwood, palms flat against the unmarred tan skin. The sensation of that raven hair brushing gently against his brow; the curve of that strong nose against his, those surprisingly soft lips against his own; it caused him to shiver slightly, but a pain of sorrow still continued to linger in his heart, tempering the warmth. He slowly opened his eyes as the priest slowly withdrew, and regarded those dark eyes for a long moment, words failing him for the emotion he felt.

"…Let me make love to you, Vash…" came the words, quiet and almost hesitant, and yet they hung in the room heavily, reverberating in the outlaw's ears. Vash's eyes widened slightly in a mixture of awe and confusion as he felt Nicholas' fingers trace lightly along the side of his face, and after a moment, slowly opened his mouth to speak.

"But…Nick…what about…I mean, the taboo…you can't-"

A finger suddenly was placed against his lips, silencing his confused utterance of questions, and it was then that he noticed the soft smile playing on Wolfwood's lips. His words died in his throat, knowing that the priest was not finished speaking.

"I don't care about the taboo anymore, Vash…" he murmured, shaking his head slightly. "I don't…I've learned the hard way that you only live once, and you never have a chance to do everything you should have again…but I've been given that chance, and I'm going to do what I should have done a long time ago…because I've loved you for far too long without letting you know…"

Vash's eyes almost seemed to tremble with unbidden tears as he looked into the angel's face, so full of conviction and determination. His raven eyebrows were furrowed beneath the thick fringe of hair that shielded his dark eyes from the dim light, and he was breathing evenly, if with a bit of anticipation. It almost seemed ethereal, impossible to comprehend, and yet, Vash couldn't pull himself free from this reality. He trembled slightly, knowing that this would be the end…that tomorrow, he might be alone and outside, there would be blood and death and no shelter from the tyranny of this Hell that had been released. But here tonight, there was a promise; a taste of light and gentle calm the likes of which Vash had never been privileged to know. A brief escape from the horrors of the world, even if only for tonight. A few moments to realize that a man so feared, so hunted and hated, so haunted and alone, could love and be loved without risk or retaliation.

Vash could feel the truth in those arms; the need that seemed to radiate from Wolfwood and mingle with his own through those deft fingers that fell to the long lines of buttons that held his coat on. He tasted it in the priest's kiss; felt it in the gentle heat of his breath as his lips traced down from his lips to his neck, just above the leather bodysuit that clung possessively to his scarred body like a second skin. And as he raised his own hands and let them trace down over the smooth, hard muscles that traced down Wolfwood's chest and stomach; over the long, lean arms, he returned that which he felt from his lover.

No more pain tonight…no more sorrow, if only for a few hours…only those hands, and these kisses; only the soft rustle of clothing against the stone floors and heavy, labored hush of mingled breathing surrounding them. Only the touch of his lover, reminding him of that which he thought he had lost long ago…

To Be Continued!

Author's Notes:

Holy…crap. I can't believe I finished Part 10! It's been a long time coming, but here it is! I hope it's up to par!

Next Chapter holds much in store…the turning point of the story! The pieces of the puzzle come together, and a great confrontation of the last two generals! Thanks for reading, and please review!


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